Dead Or Alive
by Danigirl32
Summary: AU JaSam Fic Wanted, Dead or Alive That’s the bounty on Jason Morgan's head after brutal murder of his friend and his family. Fleeing Texas, Jason Morgan returns home to Redemption, Wyoming hoping to find peace from the nightmares that follow him.
1. Chapter 1

I thought it was time I posted a JaSam fic.

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

Summary: AU JaSam Historical Fic

_**Wanted: dead or Alive**_**...**That's the bounty on Jason Morgan's head after brutal murder of his friend and his family. Fleeing Texas, Jason Morgan returns home to Redemption, Wyoming hoping to find peace from the nightmares that follow him.

Discovering a son he never knew, and living down the deadly reputation that follows him, Jason struggles to find the man his mother raised though his soul isn't ready to heal. Then he meets Sam McCall, the woman who just might be the key to his salvation.

If he can manage to clear his name and stay alive...

* * *

**_Dead Or Alive_**

**by: Danigirl**

**Prologue**

Truth.

It hit him like a bullet in the chest, hot and searing bringing with it the blazing edge of terror. The first genuine emotion he'd felt in more than ten years.

Knowledge.

He was going to be too late.

He didn't need the thick black billowing smoke rising up into the sky to tell him. Even as he leaned forward in the saddle urging Jilly, his roan mustang, faster it would change nothing. Dust kicked up around the swiftly galloping hooves, the rhythmic pattern matching the hammering of his heart.

"Come on, girl," he begged, noting the flicker of an ear as if in acknowledgement of his plea. For days they rode together seeking out the threat that he had been hired to bring to an end. Word had arrived at the ranch that the Matos brothers had come out of hiding near the border. He and Sonny had talked it over, there were plenty of men at the ranch and Sonny felt it safe for him to ride out. There had been a sinking feeling in his gut the morning he left, but Sonny had assured him that everything would be fine.

He had rode away, watching Lily on the porch holding their newborn daughter Adella, while Michael stood with his father trying to be strong and brave like Sonny. His friends. People he hadn't expected to care about during his employment here. It was supposed to just be another job. A few weeks fending off rustlers, using his gun and his name to protect the Corinthos family. Only they had wormed their way into his life, and weeks turned into months and this place had seemed like home for a while.

Now both man and horse were exhausted as they raced back, chasing a rising sun that would prove elusive, but he would ask this of the horse that had been his companion for many years.

Though he knew deep to the depths of his cold blooded soul that it was too late.

The burning structures finally came upon the horizon. They were almost specks in the distance but he knew the damage was catastrophic. With each step they grew closer and the desperate nightmare became reality. If only he had been a day earlier. If only he had found that last bastard and put a bullet into him sooner.

He would have discovered the remaining Matos brother was on his way back to the Diamond C and that his friend and employer Sonny Corinthos was in trouble. Javier Matos was the deadliest of all four Matos brothers and he had turned his back on that rabid animal for one second too long.

Tugging on the reigns brought the horse to a halt in the middle of the utter devastation. The house, the barns, everything was gutted and burning down or smoldering from the final embers of the flames that had yet to be extinguished. Bodies, the men that Sonny had hired, fallen where bullets had ended their lives. Some of them still had loose grips on the guns in their hands. Loyal to the very end.

Feelings he had thought long gone began to swim behind his eyes. It wasn't the thick smoke making his eyes burn. It wasn't the smoke closing his throat, making it hard to breathe, making his chest so tight that each beat of his heart ached. It wasn't the stench of death that choked him.

Without even realizing, he had dismounted, leaden legs pulling him toward the main house, demanding he bear witness to yet another failure.

That's when he saw the flimsy white material.

So out of place in this scene of death, it's purity stained by the smear of dirt and the obscene red stain of blood, he could do nothing but stare at it. Oblivious to everything, the residual rumbles of flame, of tinder breaking and falling to the ground, even the roar of the blood rushing in his ears. All he could do was stare at that flapping white.

The image blurring with the past.

_Blood._

Death.

Her soft brown eyes staring sightlessly up at him as warm blood pulsed from the horrific wound gaping in her chest. The sounds of weeping around him, his own voice broken as he called out to her, helpless and unwilling to accept that she was gone. All his fault. He should have been here protecting her and now she was dead and it was all his fault.

Something, Jilly's neigh perhaps, jerked him out of the past, making him shake his head to clear it. Had he learned nothing over these years? Anyone who ever tried to get close to him, ended up paying for that mistake.

It all started with Robin. Sweet gentle Robin who had loved him and he had loved with an innocence that he hadn't known he possessed. Now she was gone, and nothing would bring her back. Nothing could make her senseless death right. Not even hunting down the bastards that had murdered her and killing them all could change the fact that it was his fault she was dead.

Neither could all the men he'd killed over the years, the barren life he led, the exile from everything he'd ever once held close to his heart. His now empty, cold heart. Nothing could change it. He was dead inside. Now Sonny and his family, who had taken him in and tried to make him one of their own, had paid for trusting him.

And as he looked at Lily's nightgown flutter in the dawn breeze, he was reminded that death followed him everywhere.

It was only a matter of time until death finally caught him and exacted its due.


	2. Chapter 2

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

* * *

**_Dead Or Alive_**

**_by:Danigirl_**

**Chapter One  
**

_Redemption, Wyoming  
October 1891_

Every morning from the time she had found herself pregnant and alone at the tender age of seventeen, Margaret Mary Morgan had walked this land. There was peace here at the edge of these mountains, and she had been grateful that her parents hadn't sent her away in shame after discovering their only child pregnant by some drifter who had more charm than honor.

Edward and Lila Morgan had loved their daughter enough to ignore the whispered gossip, the not so subtle snubs of those Easterners who had descended upon the land determined to tame it's wildness for themselves, and stood by the daughter they loved.

They had moved to this land long before those newcomers. Back when the town was no bigger than the general store and the saloon, a stop on those long cattle drives down from Montana. Her parents had the need to build something and prosper, a legacy for their children, to make a life for themselves.

Their only sorrow would be the large family they dreamed of would never be, for Lila Morgan would only give birth to one child. Yet her parents had never made her feel anything but loved. Edward passed on his touch with the horses, Lila nurtured her determination.

And that was why for those first few months she had been so ashamed. Shamed that she had let her parents down, that she had been taken in by a slick line and a few wildflowers, but her mother had understood the brush of first love. Her Pa wanted to stage a hunting party and go after him and skin him up but all Maggie May had wanted was to forget she had ever been so foolish.

It was only on an October morning much like this one, when she had felt the child growing beneath her heart stir for the first time, that she had felt joy. A mother's joy and bond that could never be broken.

She had fought to bring her child into the world. Fought to raise him to be an honorable man. Fought to teach him to ignore the nasty whispers of those no better than they had to be.

Sometimes she thought she had succeeded.

It was only during these dawn moments when she questioned how badly she had failed.

Failed those blue eyes that had once looked at her so trustingly.

Now on this dawn morning, it was no longer simply Morgan land. The year she turned twenty one, her mother passed first of fever. Her Pa had tried to hold on, but Lila had been his heart and now that she was gone his own had simply lost the will to beat. The first day he brought a man over to the house, she had known exactly what he was about and been furious.

Maggie May didn't need a husband to take care of her. She knew how to take care of the land, the ranch hands respected her, and the horses were her heart. She knew that he worried that she would live out her life alone, having given birth out of wedlock, so she endured the parade of available men in and out of their house because she loved him.

It was the first thing he had taken interest in since her mother died. Besides she knew there was no chance that she would marry one of those opportunists anyway. None of them cared about her or her son, all they wanted was the land and if they had to marry her to get it, all the better. They would get a built in bed partner and housekeeper in the bargain.

Then Lucas Spencer walked into her life. With his slow grin, and handsome face. Just a bit of a black sheep, Pa hadn't exactly approved of the gambler, but he noticed her interest and Luke hadn't made his attraction a secret either, not with all those bouquets of flowers he brought over for Sunday supper.

Six months after they married, she went into her father's room and found he had passed on his sleep. The grief had hit her hard, but deep inside she knew he had only been holding on until he knew that she and his grandson were settled with a trustworthy man. She had buried him with a saddened heart, but the knowledge that her parents were together again.

She reached the paddock where she would bring out the colts later this morning that were going up for sale later this week and felt a breeze brush gently across her face, making her heart thump hard in her chest. Slowly she closed her eyes, not willing to believe that which her soul was whispering to be true.

Since the first moment he had drawn breath, she had always known her son. She knew his pain, his joy, his suffering. Her daughter Beth was her father's girl, those two, like peas in a pod. The bond between her and her son almost spiritual. Maybe it came from their reliance on each other in those early days, maybe it was just the way it was meant to be.

All she knew was that as she turned her head to the horizon and slowly opened her eyes, she wasn't surprised to see the lone figure riding in.

Part of her was almost afraid. Ten years since she had last seen her boy. Ten years when he had rode out of Redemption full of rage and grief never to return. So much had happened since then, some that had almost torn this family apart but always she waited for his return. Months would go past without word from him, then she would get a letter in the post in town. Just a couple of lines scribbled telling her he was alive, hoped all was well. Postmarks from everywhere, nowhere, and no way to write back only forced to wait for the next. Wait until the next never came.

Then the rumors started. Dark whispers that she hadn't wanted to believe until confronted with irrefutable proof. Yet that didn't change her love for her boy. He would always be her boy.

She stood there as the figure grew closer, wondering what she would see and knowing it would break her heart.

He rode a beautiful mustang, a soft reddish brown with an easy gait. That much hadn't changed. Like her, her son had the touch with horses as well. She knew that he saw her because he rode straight in her direction, instead of heading to the barn. She wondered vaguely what she looked like this morning.

The denim skirt and boots she had pulled on shifted around her ankles in another breeze. The blue blouse was a birthday present from Beth that her daughter claimed matched her eyes. Her thick dark hair was pulled back so that it wouldn't get in the way when she worked. It had a few strands of white, to match the few laugh lines at her eyes, proving that time had indeed passed since the last time they had seen each other.

The horse stopped, as this man looked down at her. This man was a stranger. A dark brown hat concealed most of his face, giving only the glimpse of a beard growing in and a sensual mouth. A sharp, cold profile that showed no emotion at all. She watched, breath caught, as he slipped from the horse easily. The brown duster a match for the dark brown shirt and trousers he wore.

The wind kicked open the coat, revealing the holster strapped low on his hip, the pair of Colt peacemakers made her stomach clench. _Whispered, gunslinger. _His stride was smooth, with virtually no sound. There was something about that one fact that made her want to weep.

Then he was standing before her, his head bowed, so she couldn't see his eyes. Ten years had changed much about this man. Beneath the shadow of hair on his face his skin was tanned by wind and sun, giving him an even more dangerous aura. Broad shoulders filled the duster he wore, but held an intensity that made her wonder what burdens he carried still. He looked tough, powerful but it didn't change that sense of isolation.

Slowly he lifted his head, raised a hand to remove his hat, and scrub a hand over shaggy tawny brown hair streaked light by the sun that looked in need of a cut, then clenched it in his fists. She waited for it, a glimpse of the boy she knew, and watched as his jaw tightened with as he looked at her.

Those eyes.

Empty.

Dear Lord what had happened to her boy.

"Mama," he murmured, and waited.

What did he think she would do? Condemn him? Turn him away? Shriek harsh words at him? This was her boy, how could she ever do anything but love him with all of her heart. She didn't know what had brought him back, what had finally broken him and driven him to Redemption, but that couldn't erase her happiness at having him here.

"Jason." She reached up to touch his face, watched him flinch slightly and ignored it, allowing a smile to curve her lips. She pulled him into her arms, felt his close awkwardly around her to squeeze for one brief moment as a shudder rushed through his body. He moved to pull away but she held on, comforting, finding comfort, she couldn't tell which. All she knew was that for the first time her heart felt whole once again. They held each other, ten years dissolving away to ten seconds.

To the blink of an eye.

"Welcome home."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Samantha McCall slammed the plate of bacon, eggs and fried potatoes down on the table in front of the current victim of her fury, and looked him up and down with a curled lip of disgust. "You look like shit," she groused, enjoying the way Lucky Spencer flinched at the loud tone of her voice. She held the cup of coffee to her nose and took a deep whiff enjoying the aroma of the bitter brew. "I bet this cup of coffee would just hit the spot."

She watched him raise bloodshot eyes to her and held the cup just out of his reach. Wanted to laugh in bitter glee as he winced and looked at her with pleading eyes. Dressed in the dark pants and shirt of his Marshall's uniform, including that shiny star that she had once caught him buffing back in his office, he looked like he had seen better days.

"Sam," he started, then had to clear his throat and his gravely voice, "Please, have mercy on a man."

"You should set an example Lucky," she would have slammed the cup down as well, but didn't want the hot liquid to spill onto her hand. "How does it look the town Marshall drunk for all to see. You're supposed to uphold the law, jackass, not dance all over it."

"Your brother," he began but she crossed her arms over her chest and glared, silencing whatever protest he was going to make.

Her brother just happened to own the town's only saloon, the Evening Star, as well as co-owning this hotel and restaurant, The Sundown, with her. So she did hold Zander partially responsible for Lucky's condition. However Lucky was big boy, and a man should know how much liquor he could hold without making a complete ass of himself.

Before she could storm away he grabbed her hand, "You forgive me Darling?"

"I'll let you know," she frowned and stormed back to the kitchen where her sister in law was currently cooking breakfast for the remainder of their customers.

The McCall family ran to Redemption five years ago from New Orleans. Zander had just married Dusty and rescued her from that brothel where her father had sold her to pay off one of his debts. The adjustment had been significant, especially the brutal winters that she still wasn't accustomed to just yet. Though in many ways, it was better. They didn't have to deal with the class distinctions they suffered through back in Louisiana.

Well, there were a few old biddies out here in Redemption that still turned up their noses at her and Dusty but after five years this was their home. Zander and Dusty lived in a set of rooms in the hotel with their three year old daughter Kristina. She lived in her own room as well, dividing her time at the hotel and the restaurant during the day and nights over at the saloon playing the piano for Dusty as she sang for the customers.

It was how she had met her sister in law. Needing the money she had been forced to seek work at the brothel and been grateful that the piano skills forced on her from her class conscious parents had saved her from that fate. Her sophistication and social graces saved her from the unsavory aspects, the Madam perfectly willing to take advantage of her beauty and poise in the role of hostess. The more prominent businessmen appreciated the elegant touch and showed it with their payment.

It was a step down from the life she had grown up in. The French Creole McCall family had lost all of their money in a bad business deal with unscrupulous partners and been cast into the streets and out of their elegant home. Cast out of the society which her parents had placed such importance in.

Her father dealt with the loss by drowning himself in bourbon and her mother went insane and had to be committed, leaving her and her twin, Alexander, to fend for themselves if they wanted to survive. The betrothal that Isaac McCall had arranged for her, ended once Jasper realized her family fortune was no longer available. The Jacks family refused to link themselves to social outcasts.

Zander took a job at the brothel as well, working as a guard to look after the girls and make sure none of the customers grew too rowdy and that's how he met and fell for Dusty. It took a year of pooling funds before they were able to flee New Orleans and Redemption was about as far away as a person could get.

Out here they had a fresh start, no one knew of their past lives, and now they were actually contributing members of the community. Respected even. Old biddies not withstanding.

Dusty wiped her hands on the apron at her waist, and smiled as she stormed across the room for another plate, "I take it Lucky came in for breakfast this morning."

"And he thinks smiling and apologizing makes up for embarrassing me last night," she muttered, then flopped down on the chair in front of her sister.

"He had a few too many," Dusty sympathized. "Its not like Lucky makes that a habit, honey."

"He pulled me off the stage Dusty, or did you forget that?" She frowned, feeling that burst of anger grow even brighter. "He threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the Evening Star, proclaiming to all who would listen that he was taking his woman home tonight." She shook her head, "What do you think they think of me this morning."

"That Lucky is," she paused and chuckled briefly, "Fortunate, to still be able to apologize to you. No one believes that anything improper happened between the two of you."

"Only because they probably heard him wailing at my window all night," she groaned, then lowered her voice in a husky imitation of the man she was currently angry with, "Pleeeaasse, Saaammm. You have to marry me."

Dusty put the final touches on a plate of sausage, biscuits and gravy and handed it to her, "Tell me again, why you don't want to marry Lucky? The two of you have been courting for three months now."

"Because I don't love him," she said firmly as she stood, adjusting the new plate with another of pancakes and bacon, "I won't marry Lucky because it's what everyone expects of me. I'm the one who has to live with him. I broke things off the night he proposed, he just refuses to take no for an answer."

"I'm sorry Sam," she murmured and Sam felt a twinge of guilt for being annoyed when she knew that her refusal was hurting Lucky. It wasn't that he was a bad man, on the contrary, he was a very good man. He worked too hard a being good in fact. For some reason he had made it up in his mind that he needed to be everything his father wasn't.

"Don't be sorry for me," she shrugged, "I just wish he would stop."

"Maybe if he realized you were interested in someone else." Dusty suggested.

"There is no one else," Sam pointed out, "And besides, I'm not in a rush to get married, just to hold Lucky off."

"If you say so," Dusty sighed softly, "I know how much you want a family of your own Sam. I see how you look at Kristina."

It was an ache deep inside of her. Not just to have a child, but a family. The love that her twin had found with Dusty and that bond that connected them. This was what she wanted. In the beginning she thought maybe she might find that with Lucky, which was why she had agreed to spend time with him. Except there was something missing, and though she had finally realized it, it had been too late to stop Lucky from proposing to her.

"I'm going to take this out," she murmured, avoiding Dusty eyes, because part of her was feeling weak and she might find herself agreeing to give Lucky another chance. Maybe she would spend a few hours with Kristina.

And hope that stopped her from making a mistake she couldn't take back.


	3. Chapter 3

Rated:M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

* * *

**_Dead Or Alive_**

**_by: Danigirl_**

**Chapter Two**

_**I wake up in the morning, And I raise my weary head  
I've got an old coat for a pillow, And the earth was last night's bed  
I don't know where I'm going, Only God knows where I've been  
I'm a devil on the run  
A six gun lover  
A candle in the wind**_

_Bon Jovi- Blaze of Glory_

Everything was the same, yet different.

He didn't know how long he stood there in the yard holding his mother in his arms, listening to her murmur happily and feeling the wetness from her tears against his cheek. How long had it been since he'd allowed anyone close enough to touch him with affection? He couldn't recall. How long had it been since he'd dared to let this dead thing beating in his chest feel anything other than guilt or rage?

It had been a risk coming back here and truthfully he hadn't expected a warm reception. A couple of nights ago, he had been bedding down somewhere in Colorado and he had looked up into the stars and wondered what the hell to do next.

Somehow Matos had framed him for the Corinthos' murders, though how he managed that Jason still was having trouble figuring out. Enough money and enough fear were all that Matos needed to get Jason Morgan on the list of wanted men.

Hell he had skirted the line of gunslinger and murderer for ten years now. It wasn't a surprise that the law was eager to bring him in. His reputation for shooting first, fast and accurate, and not giving a damned about the questions later, might have been laurelled if he had been one of those Rangers, but a man who made his living by his gun was frowned upon in polite company.

It had been a three day trip through hell getting out of Texas. Riding hard and looking over his shoulder had been his only hope until he crossed over into Colorado. Only then had he risked stopping in a town for supplies, a rest for Jilly and a night in a bed. As soon as the sun set a day later he had headed out, unsure of his destination. Heading up into Canada had seemed like a good idea and perhaps he would have done just that if he hadn't seen that herd of wild mustangs.

It was just a small one, and almost unheard of in this part of the country. A stallion and several mares, a few colts struggling to keep up and he'd looked at them in the same wonder that he'd always felt. Remembered the lessons his mother had imparted on him.

_"Gentling a horse doesn't mean breaking his spirit", _she would tell him as he sat on the edge of the fence watching her work to gain the respect of a wild horse. The little dance of trust between the two of them was probably the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. By the time she was done, that horse would be eating from her hand like a puppy and she never once used force or imposed her will on the animal.

_"If you break their spirit, then where is the room for loyalty, affection? All living things are capable of affection,"_ she had murmured as she brushed a hand down the side of a stubborn mare.

And watching these horses racing across the land, he wondered about her. He hadn't sent her a letter in more than six months, not since he decided to stay on at the Diamond C. That shamed him, because his mother didn't deserve such disrespect.

So Jason altered his plans, he would stop in Redemption for a few days. The irony too obvious to ignore. There would never be any redemption for him. Forgiveness would never be granted for his transgressions.

As much as he wanted to go after Matos for killing Sonny and Lily, those two innocent children, he couldn't with the law behind him. Maybe in a couple of years, if Matos hadn't found the other end of a bullet, Jason could hunt him down. No matter how much time passed he would never forget. Jason would never forget digging those four graves, especially that smallest one. Little Adella who had died before her life had truly begun. Matos would pay for what he did, if it was the last thing he did.

Yet before he left for Canada and an even greater exile, he wanted to see the family he had left behind one more time. When Jilly had crossed the last hill that led to the ranch house, and he saw that lone figure standing near the paddock, he'd known that it was his mother. He didn't need the knowledge that she was always the first one up, always going to tend to her horses at this time. His heart had pounded in his chest so hard that he was slightly lightheaded from the rush of blood and sensation of feeling almost alive for the first time since he'd left.

Then she was in his arms and all he knew was that she felt exactly the same.

Like home.

After guiding Jilly into the barn, he led her into an empty stall, groomed her, checking her shoes to make sure she hadn't picked up a stone and left feed and water. She had given him everything she had, never once letting him down. As he rubbed a hand along the side of her neck he had promised to give her a much needed rest.

The scent of hay and horses in the barn so familiar, that it almost felt like the other life he'd led for the past ten years was the dream and he was waking up. Only he knew it was just the opposite and this barn proved it. No, they were stables now. Evidently his mother had expanded the business and the large stables that housed at least twenty horses were so different than the five from before.

It had been their dream, to build something good with the horses, he felt guilty for abandoning that dream, but so damned proud that she had succeeded. Luke had the cattle, and that made Rose Creek wealthy, but it was always the horses that gave the ranch that Edward and Lila Morgan started its heart.

As he made his way up to the house, he watched some ranch hands start out of the bunkhouse then turned away. He didn't want to remember the time from before. How he would have joined them as they rode out to tend to the herd. How he would have slapped Harley, the foreman who had put him on his first horse, on the back and made some quick joke about how one day Rose Creek would be known for its horses and not for its beef.

Instead he climbed the three stairs of the porch and pulled open the screen, not even realizing that he was simply walking in as he used to, instead of knocking like the stranger he had become. Reluctantly, he pulled of the duster and laid it across the chair that sat next to the door.

The large living room looked the same, heavy masculine pine furniture made warm and inviting by his mother's hand. There was a new throw on the back of the couch, this one in a beautiful blend of red that he was certain she had knitted and there were new curtains at the windows. There was a big painting over the fireplace now, some almost mystical scene of the mountains behind the house.

Without thinking, he crossed the room to get a closer look, noting the initials at the corner and realizing his sister had painted this. He knew she was learning when before everything happened, but never had he thought she was this talented.

Jason looked up as heavy footsteps came from down the hall, knowing they weren't his mother's because she had went into the kitchen earlier saying she was going to start breakfast. Instead he was faced with his stepfather.

Luke Spencer looked almost the same as he had the first day his mother had introduced him. Black pants, black vest, black jacket, white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, all that was missing was a necktie and he would look like the gambler he was. Luke never made excuses for the man he was, or the fact that while he didn't know a damned thing about cattle, he sure as hell knew they made money. Luke was outspoken, blunt to the point of rudeness and comfortable in his skin. A man he had admired desperately as a child.

"So," he frowned running a hand over his hair. That much had changed, the man had a head of silver and grey hair cut short and blunt, instead of the light brown of his youth. "You finally decided to show your face again."

"Yes sir," Jason nodded respectfully.

He saw the movement coming long before Luke acted on it. Could have avoided it, if he wanted, but didn't. His hand actually jerked, ready to reach for the Colt strapped to his leg. The movement was so instinctual when physically threatened, it took a deliberate thought to stop his hand from following through. Even as the fist slammed into his jaw, he took it because it was nothing less than he deserved.

Jason took the stumble back, knowing that Luke needed that affirmation that he had actually hurt him. Licking the blood from his split lip, he looked back at the man who had loved him as if he were his blood. Jason had certainly been hit harder, with more intent to harm and he had always stood solidly and taken it without any reaction whatsoever. It was what made him the cold blooded killer that everyone feared. Nothing touched him. No pain crept into his heart because quite frankly no one believed he had one.

"Do you have any idea of what you put your mother through," he demanded through gritted teeth. Luke shoved him in the chest hard, before his fingers clenched in his shirt to drag him forward, "How many times she cried herself to sleep over you? And you just show up here, out of clear blue, looking like some good for nothing gunslinger, and expect a warm welcome?"

Evidently Luke's voice had risen, because his mother rushed into the room, tucking a white dishtowel into her apron. "That's enough," she shouted. Stepping in between them, she pried Luke's hand free then lifting her chin to meet Luke's icy gaze straight on. She glared at him and swung back around to slam a hand on her husband's chest. "Now stop it the two of. Behaving like a pair of stubborn mules."

"Darlin'," he began looking down at her with warm loving eyes, but she shook her head. Both of them knew that they were no match for Maggie May Morgan once her mind was made up about something .

"My son is home," she pointed out, "I don't know how long he's going to stay, and quite frankly I don't care right now. All that matters is that he's here."

"And everything else?" Luke asked, making Jason frown, "Does that not matter Maggie May?"

"It will be dealt with," she answered in a steely voice. One he recognized perfectly. When Maggie May Morgan got her Irish up, she wasn't a woman to be taken lightly. "Right now, I'm making my son breakfast that I'm perfectly willing to share with you. If you behave." Then she turned and pinned him with a fierce stare from bright blue eyes exactly like his own, "Have I made myself clear Jason?"

"Yes ma'am," the response slipped automatically from his lips before he could stop it.

"Good," she nodded, "Do you remember where your room is? There should be some old things of yours in the trunk in there. You can wash and come eat when you're done."

She had kept his things? He frowned before his eyes cut away from her loving face, not knowing how to accept that. Then he felt her hand on his cheek again, this time he managed not to flinch. He would have to get used to her touching him again, those memories slid back easily. His mother's casual touches of reassurance, that he had once thought nothing of, taken for granted, now treasured but didn't know how to accept.

"You always have a home here," she whispered before pressing a kiss to his cheek as if she had read his mind. "Now go wash up," she pushed him toward the hall and as he left he heard her say, "And you Mr. Spencer owe me a proper good morning."

Someone had drawn him a bath, probably one of his mother's housekeepers, for which he was grateful. He stripped out of the dirty clothes, feeling as if he was scraping off dirt from two states with him. Jason swept a hand through his hair, which felt damp and gritty and grimaced. He probably smelt like shit and his mother had thrown herself into his arms as if it were nothing.

Rather than dwell on those thoughts because they would only lead to guilt, he sank into the steaming hot water with a groan of relief and leaned back for a moment. How long could he stay here before ultimately putting his family at risk? He was good, he hadn't survived this long without knowing how to cover his tracks, so he knew he had at least a month before someone tracked him this far.

As much as he might want to stay, he couldn't take that chance. The shock was the fact that he wanted to consider staying. Yet, he had to move on before someone got this far. He scrubbed down and got out of the huge claw foot tub, wrapping a towel at his waist. It took a while to scrape off the weeks growth of hair on his face, but as he dried his skin with a towel, he realized how relived he was to have his face bare again.

Back in the bedroom of his youth, rather than dig around in the trunk, he looked in his own bag and pulled out another brown shirt and pants. He told that silent whisper in the back of his head that he wasn't a coward, just because he wasn't ready to face what could be in that trunk that sat so innocently against the foot of his old bed. Besides, the Jason Morgan from before was gone, and there was no sense in pretending otherwise.

Strapping on his guns was second nature, but as he fastened the buckle of his holster, he considered leaving them here in this room. Better sense prevailed. He understood the truth from the moment he had bought these guns. Once he started walking this path, there was no turning back. He was the man that he'd shaped himself into and nothing would ever change that.

Not even his mother's sweet smile.

Slow measured steps took him out of his room and down the hall to face the questions he knew were coming. Most he would try to answer, because his parents had a right to know. Others he wouldn't because his parents couldn't comprehend what had driven him these past years. Sometimes he couldn't understand what had haunted him. Robin's face as she died. His guilt. Or maybe he was at heart the killer his reputation claimed him to be.

When he entered the kitchen, he found Luke sitting to the table drinking from a cup and rubbing a comforting hand over the back of young boy who looked no older than nine or ten. Jason hadn't realized his mother had another child, then chided himself for his foolishness. He had been absent for ten years, he knew almost nothing about his family except for the memories he'd carried with him. Anything could have happened. He hadn't failed to notice his sister's absence.

"Jason?" He turned to his mother's bright voice, could hear that layer of nerves beneath it and wondered at the cause. "Well," she started and then stopped as if she had run out of words.

"Not so easy now is it," Luke drawled, then pinned him with an uncomfortable stare. "Boy runs off for ten years without a word, he should be man enough to face the consequences of his actions."

"Lucas," she bit out sharply with a frown creasing her brow. Then she took a deep breath and waved toward the table. "Come here Wyatt."

Jason watched the boy scoot back from the table, with a wary leer in his bright blue eyes but he went to her, slipping an arm around her waist as she pulled him tight. The boy looked so much like him when he was that age that it was uncanny. His hair was the same tawny brown, with the same tendency to lighten under the heat of the sun. He had the same rangy build beneath those blue pants and the lighter blue shirt, that had tortured him until he finally began filling out when he reached his teen years.

Something in his chest tugged hard, and he didn't understand why. Jason didn't know why he had the sudden need to touch this boy, as if testing if he were real or just his imagination. The boy peered up at him with something like a mixture of curiosity and anger before flicking his eyes away.

And then the bottom fell out of his world.

"Jason, this is Wyatt." His mother introduced carefully, "Your son."


	4. Chapter 4

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

* * *

**_Dead Or Alive_**

**_by: Danigirl_**

**Chapter Three**

Sam watched her brother and niece enjoying breakfast and tried to contain the small bite of envy at the two of them with their dark haired heads together. An indulgent smile curved Zander's lips, as he lifted Kristina's napkin from her plate and wiped a smear of fruit preserves from her cheek. Kristina giggled as he tickled her gently, and then motioned for her to finish her breakfast. Despite his needless worries, Zander was such a wonderful father.

She could remember that spring evening after Dusty gave the news that she was having a baby and the terrified look on Zander's face. Furious, Dusty had stormed out of the hotel because she thought Zander didn't want the baby. More than a touch angry herself, Sam had dragged her brother out on the step and demanded to know why he had just hurt Dusty that way and he had whispered in a shaky voice what if he ended up like their father.

All this time, she thought she was the only one with those kinds of nightmares. What if she leaned toward the drink like their father or insanity like their mother? It was part of the reason she kept herself so isolated here in Redemption. Men had expressed their interest, but she didn't know how to handle it with the insanity of their pasts. What man would want to marry a woman who had worked in a brothel and whose family had so many dark secrets?

Zander was the one who seemed to be handling everything so well. He loved Dusty, they had married and were happy, but it seemed she wasn't the only one who had fears.

"Have you talked to her about this?" she laid a gentling hand on his arm and watched as he shook his head. "You should, Zander, she won't think less of you for this worry. She probably believes that you don't want a child with her because she used to work at _Le Desirez_."

"That's ridiculous," he almost shouted. "I love her! Any man would be blessed to find a woman like Dusty." He turned his head slightly but not before she had seen the moonlight hit the tears that swam in his eyes. "I just know that bastard that raised us was no better than he had to be, Sam. The women and the booze, how he always yelled at mother, how he always hit me." He turned back with a flash of fury in his eyes, "And don't think I didn't see the way he was starting to look at you," he growled, "Beneath that refined surface that Isaac McCall was so proud of was a monster."

"So how could you possibly think that you're anything like him, Zander?" She gripped his arms tightly, never realizing that these demons rode him.

Never did she think that Zander saw the disgusting looks their father gave her when he thought no one was looking. She had prayed that it was the drink and losing the family fortune that had driven him just as insane as their mother because otherwise the thought was just too horrific to contemplate.

"That's in our blood Sam," he lowered his head, "How do I pass that along to a child? What if," he started but she covered his mouth.

"Don't you ever say that," sorrow choked her, making her voice raspy soft, "Ever. You are nothing like that man. Or our mother. They were weak, and pitiful. You're the best man that I know."

"I let you work in a brothel. I let the woman I love take other men to her bed so that we could make enough money to run." He chuckled bitterly, "Some kind of man I am, sister. She deserves better."

"Better than the man who loved me in spite of working in _Le Desirez_?"

The soft clip of boots against wooden planks signaled that they weren't alone. From the shadows, Dusty emerged, her face pale and damp from tears. The soft emerald muslin gown she wore on stage tonight to perform swished lightly as she walked closer to stop in front of Zander, a protective hand over the child they had created together.

"Dusty," he started, his eyes wide, the love naked on his face.

"You didn't force a fourteen year old girl to work in a brothel to pay off your debts Alexander, my father did that," she interrupted him. "All you've ever shown me was respect," a fresh wash of tears glittered in her eyes, "All both of you have done was make me feel as if I was worthy of being more than some whore forced to lay with men to pay my way."

"Don't," Zander gritted.

"Don't what, Alexander? Don't tell the truth? Samantha has been my best friend, despite knowing everything about me. What would a gently bred woman know about the life of a whore? But she didn't treat me like that, she was my friend."

"Of course I was," Sam crossed to her and placed an arm around her, "You're my best friend, my sister, Dusty."

"I know," she gave a trembling smile, "And you Alexander. You who loved me despite my past. You who looked beyond what Madam made and saw me." She took a step forward and placed a hand on his face, "You who waited until we were married before taking me to your bed. Who made love to me for the first time with such tenderness? You who has always treated me like I'm something special."

"You are special," he frowned as a tear spilled over onto his cheek.

"I know," she chuckled lightly through her own tears, "Because you helped me to realize that I was. How could I not love you? How could I not want such a wonderful man to be the father of my child?"

"I just don't want to let you down," he whispered shakily.

"Never," Dusty shook her head, and drew him into her arms, "Never."

Sam watched Zander wrap his arms around Dusty tight, as he squeezed his eyes shut, ran a hand up to her hair. When he pulled back, he pressed a kiss to her mouth, making Dusty giggle like the young girl who had been lost. "Well, now that we've talked some sense into my brother here," Sam laughed as she wiped her own tears away, "I'd say that a new baby is cause for celebration."

Zander set Dusty back down on the porch, and an awed smile touched his lips. She took his hand and placed it over her stomach and they looked at each other and smiled again. "I'd say that it does," Zander murmured.

Sam pressed a kiss to Dusty's cheek, and whispered, "Thank you." The look of understanding passed between them as they walked back inside.

Now look at her brother, a wonderful father, a devoted husband, and downright domestic, she smiled to herself. Was it any wonder she wanted that for herself? It was certainly the reason why she had allowed things to go on so long with Lucky.

Perhaps things would work with them, if she didn't have the feeling that Lucky wouldn't be able to accept her past if he knew the truth. No she hadn't been forced to have sex with the men that visited _le Desirez_, but would he understand that? Would he understand her fears about being like her mother?

Lucky had so many hang-ups about his own father, of being the perfect son, the perfect Marshall, that how could he tolerate anything less in the woman he wanted to marry. The unavoidable truth was she didn't trust Lucky enough to tell him about her past. So if that trust wasn't there, how could she in good faith marry him?

And if she didn't trust him, then she certainly couldn't love him, because those two things went hand in hand.

So it was better to continue to tell him no. No matter how much she longed for a family of her own. Because it wouldn't be fair to Lucky or to herself to try to make a life with a man under false pretenses. She chanced another look at her Zander and Kristina, and placed a hand over her own flat stomach wistfully, but how she wanted a child of her own. A man to love her.

Releasing a deep breath, she pushed the longing aside, she had a restaurant to run. She would settle for the knowledge that she could fend for herself for the time being. Never would she have to do anything she hated to survive. Never again. The hotel and restaurant were her reassurances in this bleak world that wasn't kind to women on their own.

"The morning coach just came in," Dusty spoke up at her shoulder, and they turned to the window to watch passengers depart and step into the lobby of the Sundown, "I can cover for you if you want to make sure Georgie is working out."

Georgie Jones had arrived in Redemption three weeks ago, stepping off the stage with all of her wide eyed innocence and both she and Dusty had known she was running from something. All that Easterner refinery, and those quiet manners, meant she came from money and would have no defenses out here. Sam had been reminded of her life, the gilded cage she had lived in back in New Orleans before their family went to ruin and taken pity on the young woman.

Georgie had been grateful, for both the room and board as well as the job working to sign in customers for the hotel. "She'll be fine, now that she's worked through those nerves," Sam sighed, "But I'll go take a peak, so she won't feel overwhelmed. The morning coaches are always the busiest. Give my niece a kiss for me."

Sam walked through the swinging doors that connected the restaurant and the hotel, and made her way over to the front desk. A frown of concern touched her brows, as she could hear the loud voices of complaint increasing as she grew closer. Georgie had a look of fear and exasperation and when she caught Sam's eyes, utter gratitude.

That's when Sam saw her, the blonde, elegant in a dove grey traveling suit with a neat little hat perched on her head. She screamed wealth with all the luggage and attitude to match. A shorter woman dressed neatly in a dark blue suit stood at her side, looking nervous. Judging from her expression and the way she cowered at the woman's rising voice, Sam would guess that she was accustomed to the woman's behavior.

Well not in her hotel. Sam barely refrained from groaning and turning away. It never failed, a woman with more money than sense stepped off the coach, making demands and expecting everyone to bow to them.

"Good morning and welcome to Redemption," Sam placed a bright smile on her face as she stepped behind the desk, "Is there something I can help you with."

"Yes," the blonde answered sharply, "I was just telling this woman here, that I require a room that connected with my companion's."

And there were no such rooms in her hotel, Sam immediately thought, "Well, unfortunately, we can't supply you with that. However, we can offer you rooms next door to each other, Mrs.," she offered.

"It's Ms. Matthews, Ms. Courtney Matthews, from Boston," she supplied as if that meant something. "I'm here visiting family and no that will not be acceptable." She frowned in disgust, "Is there some other establishment perhaps," she glanced around.

"No," Sam shot back in a much less tolerant voice, "There isn't." And lucky her, she had to deal with Ms. Matthews of Boston who was looking down on her hotel as if the floors were dirty and the stench of manure filled the air. She had nothing but pity for who ever called this woman family. "Now, Georgie," Sam turned to the harried woman, "I'll just help Ms. Matthews here, why don't you tend to the other customers who have been waiting so patiently."

The gentle but quite obvious snub toward the blonde, high and mighty, temperamental, Ms Matthews made several of the waiting customers smile.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_His son._

The words had been echoing in his head all during the breakfast that he no longer had the taste for. He settled for nursing the cup of coffee that his mother kept refilling as he tried to wrap his brain around the knowledge that he had a son that he had known nothing about.

_His son._

The boy, Wyatt, had shaken his hand like a polite stranger and said his hello's before going back to the table to sit next to Luke and pick over his own breakfast. Stunned he could only stare at his mother, who had a look of sympathy and frustration in her eyes. All kinds of questions assaulted him, because the possibility of a son was just too farfetched to comprehend.

It wasn't a lie, because all he had to do was look at the boy and know that Wyatt came from him.

The number one question however was who the hell was his mother?

"Wyatt," Luke took mercy on them all, ending the uncomfortable silence, "Why don't you go on out to the barn and tell Harley that I'll be out to talk about selling those steers to the McHenry's in a few minutes."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, obviously understanding that he was being sent out of the kitchen so they could discuss him, but he just dropped his fork allowing it to clatter noisily to his plate and pushed back from the table. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, picking up his plate and reaching over to press a kiss to his grandmother's cheek. He cut one final look in his direction, and while Jason could see the anger, there was something else that the boy probably didn't want to admit to.

Longing.

They waited until he walked out of the back door allowing the screen to slam behind him. The boy had his attitude, that much was certain.

Jason set his cup down and folded his hands neatly, the movement unnerving his parents in its stillness. Inside he wanted to rage, rage at all he had so stupidly lost, the years he had lost with a son who probably wanted nothing to do with him.

Outwardly he showed nothing.

"So, I guess it's true then," Luke began, disappointment clear in his voice, "You are just as cold and unfeeling as the rumors say you are."

"Luke," his mother whispered.

"Look at him, Maggie May," he gestured with a disgusted hand, "Sitting there as if we had just said, look at the new dog we bought, instead of just introducing him to the son he couldn't be bothered with."

He wanted to claim it wasn't true, that he had known nothing about Wyatt, but it _was_ his fault. He had made no attempt to come home over these past ten years, why should either of them accept anything he said as truth. Why should Wyatt not hate the man who had fathered him but played no role in his life?

"Who is his mother?"

Luke frowned at the question, so did his mother, as they looked at him as if he had sprung another head. "You don't even remember the woman you made a child with? Picked that up from your father did you?" Luke muttered bitterly, and his mother's face drained of color.

"Don't ever speak of that bastard again," his voice was so soft, so deadly that it made his mother gasp and Luke blink as if he were a stranger. "Don't ever compare me to that bastard again."

"Jason," Maggie May murmured but Luke cut him off.

"Or what," he questioned, "You'll shoot me, like you did all the other people you've killed over the years. You don't scare me boy," his curt voice lashed out, "Better men than you have tried. I'm certainly not going to cower over some boy whose hide I tanned when he was being disobedient."

Anger poured off Luke in waves, as he pushed himself to a standing position his hand planted on the wooden table, "You tell me how I'm wrong, Jason. You sit there and tell me that you don't even know who the mother of your son is. You sit there after ten years of abandoning that boy and tell me how you're different."

And he couldn't. No amount of anger could change the fact that he had done the exact same thing to his own son that his father had done to him. Worse, considering he didn't even remember making the boy, or the woman whose bed he had shared.

"Her name was Cassandra. Cassie Matthews," Maggie May supplied but the name meant absolutely nothing to him.

"Was?"

"She died in childbirth, Jason," his mother answered. She inclined her head, wrinkling her nose slightly, "You still don't remember?"

"Bastard," Luke growled and Jason closed his eyes to hold on to his temper.

"How old is he?" he managed through gritted teeth.

"He'll be ten in the spring," Maggie May sighed heavily and picked up her cup of coffee to take a sip. Damn it. Ten years. Ten damned years. Which meant that he had slept with this woman sometime after Robin.

After they buried Robin, he had spent weeks drunk, raging at the loss of the gentlest woman he'd ever known. Wallowing in his failure to protect the woman he loved. At some point during that drunken desolation he had crawled into this Cassie Matthew's bed and made a child.

Misery boiled, crawled down his spine to take up residence along side the guilt that festered there for the past decade. "When Cassie realized she was pregnant she came to the ranch to tell you, but you'd already gone. We let her stay with us, because we thought you'd come back at some point."

Only he hadn't. Finally the rage had set in, and the determination to find the men who had killed Robin. It had taken him two years to track down them down. Two years of doing things that would have shamed the woman who sat across from him, but in the end he had found them holed up in Louisiana in some brothel called _Le Desirez_.

He hadn't called the law, not willing to trust that they would somehow escape before they could face punishment. Instead he had killed them both, then dragged them in, ready and accepting the punishment he faced for taking the law into his own hands.

Imagine his surprise when he had been handed the five hundred dollar reward for their capture.

It seemed that the two Cajun boys, Tom and Hank Snyder, had a bounty on their heads for committing over twenty bank robberies throughout Texas, Wyoming, Colorado and Kansas.

And that had formed the man he was today. The local Marshall had led him to the nearest saloon, bought him a shot of whiskey and pointed him in the direction of the next bounty. With nothing left, and unable to go home after the things he had done, Jason had left for Missouri the next morning.

Now he was faced with the consequences of his selfish actions in the son he could have watched grow up. Been the father that his own hadn't been for him.

"Still not ringing any bells," Luke said in the same cool tone. "I'm ashamed of you Jason."

Exhaling a deep breath, Jason pushed back from his chair to stand, "I guess that's supposed to mean something to me," he answered with staid calmness and began to walk away. His mother grabbed his hand, and everything in him wanted to jerk back from that touch, but never would he hurt her that way.

"Does Wyatt mean something to you?" she whispered in a tear smothered voice.

Carefully he pulled free, as gently as possible, when he spoke there was a bitter edge of cynicism in his voice, "Just that I've managed to fail one more person."

"You didn't fail Robin," the love strong in her voice, made his heart ache. "You didn't shoot Robin."

"I didn't do anything to stop it either."

"Lord save us," Luke ground the words out, "How long are you going to carry that around? Robin went to the bank that day to get the money that you promised for her wedding dress. She was happy, proud that the two of you were going to be married and you dishonor her memory by dragging that guilt along."

"I was too busy," the words seemed worn, thin and hallow, useless when faced with what had happened. "I was too busy for her, because I wanted to tend to my damned horses." A sharp bitter laugh barked harsh and cruel. "I told her I would take the money out later on that afternoon because I didn't want to leave the foal alone because he had colic."

"And she went instead," Luke's voice softened, considerably. Painfully reminding him how much Luke had loved Robin like she was another daughter.

"If I had looked beyond what I wanted, she would still be alive," he managed no more than the harsh whisper as the memory of rushing into the bank filled his head. Seeing Robin laying on the floor surrounded by everyone and the deathlike silence as he wrapped her in his arms after her eyes had fluttered shut.

"Being concerned about the foal didn't mean that you didn't love Robin," Maggie May, placed her hands on his shoulders, "No one blamed you for what happened, Jason."

He blamed himself, and that was enough, because he knew that his mother was wrong. If he had loved Robin enough, she wouldn't be dead. If he hadn't been such a bastard, he wouldn't have a son that he didn't know.

If he was a better man, he wouldn't be a killer more comfortable with death than the living.


	5. Chapter 5

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

* * *

**_Dead Or Alive_**

**_by: Danigirl_**

Chapter Four

_**When you're brought into this world, They say you're born in sin  
Well at least they gave me something, I didn't have to steal or have to win  
Well they tell me that I'm wanted. Yeah, I'm a wanted man  
I'm a colt in your stable  
I'm what Cain was to Abel  
Mister catch me if you can**_

_Bon Jovi - Blaze of Glory_

So that was his father.

This morning when his Grandma woke at her usual time, Wyatt had lay in his bed listening to the sounds of her moving around the silent house just like always. He didn't find it odd that he tended to wake so early, it just felt right. Usually he waited until she brought the horses out into the corral before he got up and walked over to the window to watch. He loved watching her with the horses; there was something beautiful about it, though he would never admit to something like that out loud.

He was already teased enough.

Today when he rolled over, something had whispered inside him that this day was going to be different. It had tingled under his skin, making him both excited and uncomfortable, and he couldn't figure out why. He had lain in the bed waiting for the familiar neighs of the horses but when they didn't come he climbed from bed to his window to see what was wrong. That's when he saw him.

When he watched his grandmother throw her arms around this stranger, he had known exactly who the man was. The love and the relief, the tears, had told him just who had ridden into the ranch. For a long time he watched, unsure of how he felt about it. Stomach clenched tight, almost sick, but he watched trying to get this man's measure only to find it impossible.

The conflicting stories about Jason Morgan spun wildly in his head.

His family told him about the Jason Morgan who had a kind heart, a loving smile, and a helping hand for anyone who needed it. They told him the lady that Jason was going to marry had been murdered and he left to find the men who did it, that's why he didn't know he had a son. No one told him why his mother wasn't the same lady as this Robin, but a lady name Cassie Matthews, but from the insults whispered about him he figured it out real quick.

Then there were the stories about Jason Morgan, the gunslinger. The fastest hands, the dead accurate aim, and the cold blooded killer that criminals cringed in fear of and respectable folk whispered about in both revulsion and dread.

He had so many questions and so much anger burning inside him it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He didn't want this man to be his father, yet when he looked into his eyes, all he wanted was for this man to be his father. It felt disloyal to Grandma and Grandpa, because they were his family, they were the ones who loved him, not this distant stranger whose arrival was already kicking up trouble.

Confused, Wyatt walked over to the new horse in the stable, digging out the sugar cube he kept a stash of hidden to feed the horses. He had a feeling that Grandma knew that he sneaked treats to the horses, but she didn't seem to mind. Besides, she was always sneaking him treats.

This horse was beautiful, strong and probably quick as lightening because all mustangs were fast. She was a nice gleaming brown, but he could tell that if the sun hit her coat just right, it would burn with red like a flame. "Hey there," he murmured, lifting a hand that always seemed too large for a boy his age for the horse to scent, waiting until she butted against him before he rubbed a hand down the bridge of her nose.

He had looked at the stranger's, his father's hands, and seen his own. The same wide palm, long fingers, except the man's hands were older, slightly calloused and tanned. A man's hands. Hands that his would one day grow to be.

"Well, he can pick good horses," Wyatt muttered, feeding the mustang the cube. He leaned his cheek against the horse brushing a hand along her neck and closed his eyes.

So much of himself in that stranger, he realized. The same hair, even that way it was all messy when it grew out too long and he needed a trimming. The face that he knew his own would mature into. He thought Grandma was just saying they were alike because the man was her son and she loved him.

Actually seeing it was like that time he had jumped into the creek like an idiot on that hot day right after the last snow. The water had hit his skin like sharp knives stabbing into his skin, so cold that it knocked the breath right out of him.

That's how he had felt looking into his father's eyes.

When their eyes met, they weren't cold like all the stories said they would be. They didn't make him afraid, or wonder how many people he had killed. They made him feel like a little baby who wanted to throw his arms around him and cry. What he would cry for, he didn't know, but the tears had burned in the back of his throat just the same.

"Her name's Jilly."

Wyatt jerked around like a thief who had been caught stealing, to find the man standing there in the shadows like some kind of ghost. Feeling stupid for practically bawling all over the man's horse, he climbed down from the gate, and tried to pretend like he was his Grandpa. He shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted a shoulder as if he didn't care.

He was pretty certain that the man could hear his heart hammering in his chest, because it sounded like the hooves of a stamped echoing in his ears. Only he said nothing, just crossed the stables until they were facing each other and stared for a long time making him want to squirm.

The man didn't lean down, like some grownups did, he just tilted his head a bit and watched him. Well, he could just watch him too, if that's what he wanted because he wasn't saying anything. Even if he had to bite the inside of his jaw to keep from rambling off like a fool. Just when he thought the silence would kill him, something just short of amazing happened.

The side of the man's mouth lifted and his eyes softened briefly before going back behind that blank wall. "You like horses," he asked taking him by surprise and before Wyatt could think he was bobbing his head up and down.

"Your Grandmother taught me everything I know about horses," he leaned over and brushed a hand down Jilly's nose and the horse butted back affectionately. "That's how I was able to recognize the good in Jilly here."

The man's voice was low, soothing, yet carried a unique force that he recognized from Grandma's. Wyatt curled his hands into fists in his pocket, and turned his head away, pretending not to be affected. Trying to conceal how his stomach clenched eagerly to hear him speak again.

"She told me that you're good with the horses too," he spoke again, and just as fast blew out a rough breath and dragged a hand over his face, back through his hair. "I don't know what to say to you," he admitted and Wyatt felt his eyes widen in disbelief.

"I swear I didn't know," a look of grief flickered across his face then was gone, "If I had known about you Wyatt, I swear I would have come back." And through that stillness that he had witnessed during breakfast something almost imperceptible crept in. "I never would have allowed my son to go through what I did growing up."

And as they looked at each other, Wyatt realized that this was the one person who did understand how bad things could be sometimes. How the other kids sometimes called him bastard, or picked on him because his mother was dead and his father was gone. How some adults were cruel speaking at him as if he weren't worth their attention, or worse about him as if he wasn't even in the room?

"I know you have no reason to believe that," the man nodded once, "No reason to trust anything that I have to say, but I am sorry Wyatt. More sorry than you can ever know. I know you have a good home here with your Grandmother and Grandfather. They love you."

Wyatt's voice seemed to have dried up in his throat because when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out. Though he didn't know what he would have said if he managed the words anyway. Wyatt dry swallowed, blinking as he watched the man's hand lift toward his face then stop as if he had changed his mind and lowered it back to his side.

"I hope one day you can forgive me for not being the father you deserved," the man moved to step away and finally he found his voice.

"Wait."

"Yeah."

"Are, are," he fumbled and wanted to growl in frustration at the nerves that kept jumping in his stomach, "Are you leaving?"

"I was thinking I might stay for awhile."

"Okay," he blurted awkwardly, then cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders back, "Uh, yeah, okay."

"You think maybe we could spend some time together, I'd like to get to know you."

"Me?" he squeaked out.

And the side of the man's mouth lifted again, "Yeah, you. That is if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind. I'm," he stopped unsure of how to ask, "I don't know what to call you." Cause he couldn't keep calling him the man, but he didn't know if he even wanted to call him his father so that left all the names he'd heard other children calling their father's out.

"Why don't we start with Jason first, and we'll gone on from there. Is that alright with you?"

He nodded anxiously, "Yeah, that's fine." He paused, and then tried it, "That's fine Jason."

"I'm going into town," Jason lifted a shoulder much like he had, "You want to ride in with me?"

"Are you taking Jilly?" He would love to see the mustang run, could almost see her legs flying across the ground.

"Not today, Jilly has earned a rest. I'm going to take out one of the others. You want to help me pick one out."

"Sable's a good horse," Wyatt began, "She's a lot like Jilly, except she has a bit of a temper and doesn't like just anyone riding her. She's Grandma's horse. She's got a colt that I ride sometimes, his name is Jack. Grandpa has a grey named Ghost, but Grandpa doesn't like to ride, he prefers taking the buckboard when he goes into town."

"Luke never did like riding," Jason chuckled softly, "So which do you suggest?"

Amazed to be given the choice, he immediately answered, "Kid." A high pitched neigh rang through the air, making him laugh, "That's him."

"Then we should get started if we want to get back her before dinner." Jason moved toward the saddle hanging next to Jilly's stall to pull it down. Together they walked to Kid's stall and Wyatt took a deep breath and tried to relax. Yes, he was going into town with his father, didn't mean he had to act like a little kid about it.

"Can we go see Aunt Beth while we're there?"

"That's fine," came the easy reply.

"Umm, Jason," Wyatt started and his father turned around, pinning him with those eyes. Now that he had his full attention, he didn't know if he wanted to say the words that wanted to pour out. So he settled on, "I'm glad you came back. Cause you know Grandma missed you, and so did Aunt Beth."

"I missed them too," he nodded, his hand lifting again only to pause but this time Wyatt took a nervous step forward, his face slipping into the palm, as he looked away.

The heat from Jason's hand made his heart slam even harder against his ribs so he bit his lip and waited to see what would happen next. The large hand cupped his cheek more gentle than he would have expected from a man with the reputation of a gunslinger. It brushed back across his head, and through his hair to finally land on his shoulder.

"I'm glad I came home too Wyatt."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Sam set the saucer holding the thick slice of coffeecake and the cup of tea in front of her customer with a smile and was thanked with a bright smile in return. "Thank you," the soft friendly voice almost sighed with anticipation, "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this."

"The fact that you practically dragged me from the house this morning, _Mi Corazon_, proved just how eager you were for your bit of sweet today." The dark haired man smiled indulgently over at his wife.

The couple were a part of her usual customers. Beth and Lorenzo Alcazar lived in what little society Redemption had. Originally Beth Spencer, daughter to the cattle dynasty owned by Luke and Maggie May Spencer, and Lorenzo Alcazar a wealthy businessman originally from Spain who owned the bank here in Redemption and several more in other states, they made a perfect couple. Dark haired, good looks, Beth's petite stature complimented Lorenzo and where they could have had the same snobbish attitude as many wealthy people Sam had the misfortune of meeting, they were genuinely nice.

Lorenzo helped her and Zander open the Evening Star and the Sundown, while Beth had opened her home to Sam and Dusty so they could become acquainted with everyone in town. Beth even helped with Kristina's christening. While Dusty was her sister and best friend, Sam could honestly count Beth Alcazar as a friend as well.

"Well, you have to admit," Beth smiled widely after taking a bite of her treat, "Dusty makes the best coffeecake in all of Redemption, how are we supposed to resist?" She rubbed a hand over the gentle swell of her stomach with obvious love, and Lorenzo placed his hand over hers, his devotion so clear that Sam had to bite back a sigh.

It seemed everyone around her lately was madly in love.

This was Beth and Lorenzo's third child, she had confided in Sam that she was hoping for a little girl this time after her two boys Cameron and Diego. Sam often wondered how Beth found the energy, between her two boys, teaching school and the social obligations but then Sam remembered Maggie May Spencer and realized where Beth's unlimited fount of energy came from.

Maggie May was a woman to aspire to. Beautiful, confident, smart and kind. Yes, her husband Luke ran one of the wealthiest ranches in the state, but Maggie May had her horses that people from miles around came to buy. There were rumors about a son that had run off ten years ago and him turning out to be some gunslinger.

Until Beth actually confirmed, one way or another, she would just ignore them. She knew Beth had a brother named Jason, because Maggie May was raising his son Wyatt but other than a few whispers, and recollections about a horrible bank robbery, people tended to be respectful of Maggie May and not speak about him.

"So Sam," Beth caught her attention, "Have you given any thought to joining the planning committee for the Autumn Festival?"

Her smile vanished to be replaced with exasperation, "I told you, I don't want to sit around sipping tea with a bunch of old women who would just as easily cross the street than speak to me." Beth had been on her about this since the second week of September.

"You can't make me suffer through this alone," Beth pleaded, "It's bad enough I was roped into this by Mama, I need someone to,"

"Suffer with you," Sam chuckled at Beth's depressed expression.

"Yes!" she laughed, not even bothering to pretend, "It's not so bad you know. Mama has the meetings out at the house and the reason she roped me in this year is because the really bad old biddies can't participate on the committee anymore."

"Beth, I really don't think," Sam paused at her pouty lipped expression, "That's not fair."

"Don't worry," Lorenzo laughed sympathetically, "She uses the muffin face on me all the time when she's trying to guilt me into something."

"You're married to her," Sam pointed out.

"Come on," Beth grinned, "Please Sam, for the sake of my unborn child and my two sons, save my sanity."

Sam rolled her eyes at the exaggeration, "Well in that case," she drawled and Beth reached across the table and grabbed her hands to squeeze them tightly.

"Thank you," the gratitude on her face sincere, "You don't know how relieved I am, because I was dreading," her voice trailed off as she tilted her head to the side and stared out the window.

"_Mi Corazon_," Lorenzo placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, as he looked out the window trying to see what she was looking at, "What is wrong?"

"Wyatt," Beth murmured, and pushed back from her seat and stood, as the blood drained from her face, "Oh my God," she whirled away, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she ran out the restaurant.

Jason heard the feminine voice scream his name just an instant before Wyatt tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. Before he could prepare, he found himself with his arms full of a weeping woman. Startled he pulled back to see the familiar face, the sweet blue eyes and the smile that had captured a small piece of his heart from the day she was born.

"Ella?"

"Oh my God," He finally understood what she kept repeating over and over. Then she gripped his face in her hands, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Jason is it really you?"

Gone was the teenaged girl in pigtails and in her place was a woman, her long dark hair just like their mother's pulled up in an elegant twist and dressed neatly in a deep violet walking dress made of a crisp rustling sateen and embroidered with delicate ivory lace and most importantly, with child.

Before he could say it was him she had thrown herself in his arms again, squeezing his neck so tight he could barely breath. "You came home," she wept against his neck, "You finally came home."

Her joy made him feel awful, almost as bad as when his mother had done the same thing to him earlier but not nearly as horrible as when Wyatt had ducked into his hand back in the barn. Damned that had almost killed him. The tentative way his son had reached out to him, unsure of how he felt about the man who he discovered was his father but needing something that the boy probably didn't even understand.

Things had just grown more complicated than he could ever have anticipated. He had the law after him, a man who needed to die for killing his friends, a family who he hadn't realized just how much he missed and a son that he desperately needed to be a father to.

Any plans he had for traveling to Canada just went to hell in a hand basket.

Sam held the length of her skirts out of the way as she hurried after Lorenzo out of the restaurant after Beth wondering what the had just happened. One moment they were talking about the Autumn Festival committee and the next she said something about her nephew and took off as if she had seen a ghost.

Lorenzo stopped just at the steps, in a state of shock as well, and she heard him murmur, "Jason?"

Who was Jason? Then the memory cleared, Jason, Beth's brother? She saw Wyatt standing beside them, the tall tawny haired man holding a weeping Beth in his arms, his face bleak with sorrow and eyes so damned startling they made her heart race.

He set Beth down on the ground and she said something that didn't quite reach to them, but in the next instant her hand reached out, cracking across his face so loudly that it drew the attention of everyone on the street. Sam heard Lorenzo chuckle, and start toward his wife in a determined stride as Beth planted her hands on her hips in a very familiar stance and began shouting.

Something drew her forward, when ordinarily, she would have gone back inside. This was obviously family business, and had nothing to do with her, but there was just something about this man that she needed to see for herself. Some distant memory tugged at the back of her mind at that wide legged stance. She watched as Lorenzo finally reached his wife, and placed a tempering arm around her waist but Beth continued to fuss.

"And to think all this time we've been worried sick about you and you just show up here after ten years! Ten years Jason! With barely one word! So what do you have to say for yourself?" she shrieked, while the show Beth was putting on was amusing to the crowd of on lookers, Sam could hear the hurt beneath that layer of fury. The tears on her face weren't from joy anymore but pain and disappointment.

"Ella," he began but she held a hand up.

"Don't call me that," she shot back, "My big brother Jase called me Ella," she waved her fingers at him, "I don't know who you are anymore, so you don't get to call me that. Not until you explain to me," her voice broke as a fresh wave of tears burst free, "Not until you explain how you could do this to us." She turned into Lorenzo's arms, muffling her tears against his chest.

"My wife's a little emotional now that she's with child," Lorenzo spoke softly.

"I am not emotional!" Beth shouted and pushed Lorenzo away to glare at both men.

Just when Sam thought things couldn't get any worse, Lucky came rushing out of the Marshall's office. Star gleaming in the sunlight and ready to play lawman for his half sister, he seemed to bristle with righteous indignation. He took one look at the scene, at Beth and as usual leapt to the wrong conclusions. His face twisted with anger as he stalked forward, and when he was mere steps away he reached for the revolver strapped to his waist.

The next instant was so unbelievable, that Sam thought she had blinked and missed it. One moment the stranger named Jason was standing there, like a statue carved in granite, his face blank of any emotion as he watched Beth weep and rage at him. The only way Sam knew that he was affected was that despair she had glimpsed in his eyes. For one second he had been unable to conceal it in that sky blue gaze.

Then his brow flickered, and in a blur his hand moved and the next instant the gun she had seen strapped to his leg was in his hand and pointed toward Lucky. It was impossible for someone to move that fast.

Her heart slammed frantically against her ribs as the memory exploded in her mind like dynamite.

_"You're supposed to be a peaceful rancher," the drunken man with dirty blonde hair slurred as he tried to crawl away. The still dead body of his companion on the ground next to him had cleared away most of the alcohol that blurred his common sense._

_If he had been a little more sober, he would have realized that he was staring down death and it was time to pay his toll._

_"You killed her," came the dark husky voice. "She was sweet and innocent and you killed her."_

_Sam tried to huddle deeper into the shadows so no one could see her. She had slipped out of Le Desirez tonight after her last song at the piano needing a breath of fresh air. And to get away from the last man that had tried to convince her to join him upstairs. Now part of her wished she had because if the man holding the gun saw her, she had no doubt that she would be as dead as the other man on the ground was._

_As dead as this one begging soon would be._

_"So do it," the blonde man spat out, "You've chased us across three states to kill us, so do it you fucking bastard." Before he could scream more, the loud blast of the Colt echoed through the passageway and the man's head jerked once before he collapsed to the ground._

_The stranger slipped the gun into the holster at his waist and she heard him murmur in a voice so anguished it made her stomach twist, "I'm so sorry Robin."_

_Then he turned around and pinned her with eyes so blue, so intense that she gasped lightly in wonder. Whoever this Robin woman was, he had loved her. Loved her enough to chase down the men who had killed her. Loved her enough to kill them, knowing that he would probably be sent to prison for it. Sam felt her stomach knot, she was actually trembling as she contemplated having a man who loved her that way. Grief ravaged his gorgeous face, agony made that sensual mouth thin, his nostrils flare, and sorrow bent his glorious figure beneath its weight._

_Where she had been afraid, she now just wanted to heal. Something in his eyes made her want to reach out and heal the misery she saw there. Their eyes held for a long moment then he finally spoke and his words broke her heart because he had to know they stood in the passageway to a brothel and even in his grief there was gentleness in his voice._

_"Go back in side ma'am. A good woman like you doesn't need to be soiled by death."_

How was she to know years later she would be faced once again with the only man that had made her wonder?

How was she to know that years later he would be seconds from killing the man who had proposed to her just days before?

And he still made her blood race.

And the desolation that surrounded him still broke her heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to write about them

* * *

_**Dead Or Alive**_

_**by Danigirl**_

**Chapter Five**

"Drop your gun."

"You first."

Ice met steel and the once tense reunion took a volatile turn. Fear twisted around her heart as Sam took in both men and she knew that at the slightest provocation someone could die here in this moment. Lorenzo tucked Beth behind him, shielding her and their unborn child with his body while Wyatt looked on in a combination of awe and terror.

Lucky, she wanted to grit her teeth in frustration, had unknowingly complicated things. Even with his .45 pointed directly at Jason's chest; Sam knew he wasn't in control of the situation. To the average on looker, Lucky looked confident, capable, all the things that made him a good Marshall. The grip on his gun was firm and ready to pull the trigger but standing so close, Sam could almost feel his apprehension.

She could almost hear the thoughts rushing through his head. He had heard Beth's angry voice while sitting at his desk and rushed out to see what the problem was. Normally the badge on his chest, and a small use of force was enough to settle a conflict here in Redemption.

Facing down the barrel of a gun that had been removed, faster and more confidently than his own had caused Lucky to falter for a brief moment. Perhaps he might have withdrawn, but with the crowd on the street he had to save face or lose the respect of the citizens he protected.

Unfortunately, Jason was the one holding the strings in this staring match. His loose stance, that easy grip on his Colt, and the cold blank way he stared Lucky down, proved he was more than willing to pull the trigger and think nothing of it. She still couldn't believe just how fast his hand had moved. One moment he had been looking at Beth and the next he had turned into the man she remembered from that back passageway in New Orleans.

Tall, broad shouldered in dark brown and beautifully proportioned shoulders filling out the open duster he wore, she was faced with the man she heard so many rumors about. Jason Morgan. However, where was the brother she heard whispers of, the devastated man who had run off looking for the men that killed his fiancée? Was this him, or was this that other man she heard of, the deadly gunslinger who killed for money.

That brown hat pulled low on his head, made his profile sharp. Dangerous. All she knew was this was the man she had met years before and had never forgotten. He cocked his head to the side slightly, though she figured that was more for intimidation, than the need to see.

Neither man were going to withdraw. Sam knew something bad was going to happen. Instead, something amazing happened. Wyatt tucked his hand into Jason's. The change that came over him was stunning, emotion flickered in those artic blue eyes and his entire body seemed to relax. Though he didn't put his gun away, Sam knew Lucky was no longer in danger of meeting his maker. At least not today.

She decided to make things easier on both men, and moved toward Lucky to get him to back away because somewhere deep inside she knew Jason wouldn't. He had already done his part and now it was time for Lucky to concede as well. Though his gaze remained on Lucky, Sam knew Jason was watching her every movement. Jason was probably aware of everything that was going on around them.

Finally close enough to make a difference, she placed a hand on Lucky's arm, "Why are you holding a gun on Beth's brother?" she started in an exasperated voice, hoping he would turn toward the taunt.

"I know exactly who I'm holding a gun on," Lucky grunted, "Now Lorenzo you get Beth off the streets and take Wyatt with you."

Lorenzo shot Lucky a dry glare and Sam knew he would laugh, so she sent him a pleading look. If she hadn't seen the understanding in Lorenzo's gaze, she would have placed herself between Lucky and Jason but then Beth took control and matters into her own hands.

"I don't need you to tell my husband what to do," Beth's temper flared, "What you need to do, is stop overreacting. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think my own brother was going to hurt me?"

"I was just trying," he started but the contemptuous look Beth shot him had the words drying up.

"I appreciate your concern," she took a deep breath and Sam saw Lorenzo rubbing a hand in circles at the base of her spine. With each second she paused, Sam watched her gain better control of her temper. "I do Lucky, and I shouldn't have started this out on the street where everyone could see. I was just so surprised. Now can you please put that away so we can head inside and I can talk to Jason?"

"You're just going to forgive him for disappearing for ten years," Lucky drawled and Sam could hear the jealousy in his voice. She could almost sympathize. Lucky had done everything he could since arriving in Redemption to be a brother to Beth, and while Beth loved Lucky, it was obvious the place Jason held in her heart could never be supplanted.

Sam supposed it would be like someone trying to replace Zander. It just couldn't be done. Lucky and Beth had only known each other for the five years that he had moved here from Virginia, while Jason was the brother she had grown up with.

"We're not going to do this now Lucky," Beth warned finally self-conscious of the crowd they had drawn, and then she looked at Jason, "Please, let's go inside and talk."

Something flickered in Jason's eyes and Sam watched as Wyatt moved closer to him and much to her surprise Jason backed down. He lowered the gun, slowly withdrawing to slip it into his holster. Lucky reluctantly followed suit, though the grimace of anger on his face hadn't changed. Neither of these men would be having brotherly feelings toward each other any time soon. Still staring at Lucky, he ran a hand over Wyatt's head, "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," the boy seemed a little shocked still as he gazed between Jason and Lucky, but that turned into a frown at the fury on Lucky's face. Wyatt leaned toward Jason, his blue eyes grew angry, "Can we go with Aunt Beth now?"

"Let's go inside."

Beth looped an arm around Wyatt's shoulder and was escorted back toward the restaurant with Lorenzo's assistance but Jason remained a look of contemplation on his face. At first Sam thought he might be looking at Lucky, then he inclined his head, those intense eyes squinting and she knew his focus was completely on her.

"Excuse me ma'am," he began, that husky voice making shivers run down her spine. Lucky instinctively took a step closer to her, pulling her into his arms. She might have resisted, but didn't want to complicate matters more than they were. Lucky was already strung tighter than a June bug, having the woman he was interested in embarrass him in front of Jason wouldn't help. "Have we met?"

An innocent enough question except it set off all kinds of alarm bells in her head. "NO!" she blurted, too quickly. "No," she tried again in a softer tone. No she didn't want this man to remember that night in New Orleans, nor did she want Lucky to question it. "I'm sure you're mistaken," she licked her lips nervously and noted that his eyes followed the movement.

"Why would Sam be acquainted with a known gunslinger?" Lucky shot off making her cringe.

The side of Jason's lip curled upward as he said, "Why indeed." He inclined his head, "My mistake," he added before turning around.

"You would think Maggie May had taught you manners," Lucky started, "It's not bad enough that you ran off without a word, but now you're accosting innocent women on the streets? It's a wonder someone hasn't put a bullet in you yet."

"Lucky," she whispered, wondering what on earth was wrong with him. Why was he purposely provoking Jason into another altercation when the first had only uneasily ended moments before?

"I've had plenty of bullets put in me," Jason paused and spoke over his shoulder, "No one's been _Lucky_ enough to kill me yet," he mocked softly. "Pardon me ma'am," Jason touched a hand to the brim of his hat briefly and started toward the restaurant in a slow smooth walk that made her swallow back a sigh of appreciation.

The crowd realizing the show was over cleared out leaving her and Lucky standing there alone. Before she could slip away and unabashedly spy on the conversation that was taking place in her restaurant, Lucky grabbed her wrist. The look in his eyes was a mixture of mortification and fury. She tried not to let him see anything more than concern in her gaze. The last thing she needed was for Lucky to see she had more than mild curiosity about Jason Morgan.

"You had no business stepping into the line of fire like that," he scolded and any thoughts of kindness blew away in the late morning breeze. "You could have been shot, or worse killed! Don't you have better sense than that?"

"I suppose that little star on your chest makes you bullet proof," she rolled her eyes, after flicking a finger at the badge he was so proud of. "You really over reacted Lucky."

"Do you know who that man is?" He asked and though she knew a great deal more than Lucky probably thought she did, it was definitely wise to keep it to herself.

"I'm guessing that's Beth's brother Jason," she fudged, "At least that's what Lorenzo said."

"Yeah, that's him," Lucky grumbled, "The prodigal son returns home at last. My father is probably roasting a calf as we speak. That's all I ever heard from the moment I arrived in Redemption, Jason this, Jason that." He muttered and took her hand into his, "You have to listen to me and do as I say Sam."

"Lucky, I don't think we have to repeat the conversation where I tell you that I'm an adult and you don't tell me what to do."

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Human nature I guess," she lifted a shoulder, not caring if Lucky thought she was stubborn or not. Especially if being stubborn only meant he was angry she wouldn't obey his orders.

"Sam," he paused and looked around, checking to see if anyone was listening, "He's a gunslinger Sam. I've heard about his reputation, and it's not fit for the company of a genteel woman like you."

"Genteel," her brows rose in shock. "There is nothing genteel about me."

"You are a kind, gentle, well-bred woman," he smiled and caressed the side of her face, the affection in his eyes only served to make her feel bad because she couldn't return it. "Jason Morgan, no matter how much Maggie May or my father, or Beth try to deny it, is a danger to anyone who comes around him. I'm surprised they allowed Wyatt off the ranch with Jason alone."

From what she understood, Wyatt was Jason's son, so there wasn't a thing about allowance to it. If Wyatt was willing to accompany Jason, Lucky had no cause for complaint. "I think I should get back," she smiled a bit, hoping he would get the message but he seemed stuck on this Jason rant.

"Promise me you'll keep your distance from him Sam. I'd hate for something to happen to you just because you were being nice to him. He doesn't deserve it."

"Lucky, I don't even know the man," she hedged not willing to make him angry for not wanting to make a promise she didn't believe she had to.

"Sam," he drawled and she waited, saying nothing.

After a long pause, during which she fought conflicting emotions, she settled on, "First, I don't have to promise anything Lucky, we're no longer in a relationship with each other."

"That doesn't' mean that I don't love you, that I'm not concerned about you."

"I know, and that's the only reason you haven't' seen the back of my hand, Lucky Spencer. I'll say this, I won't seek out Jason Morgan while he's here in Redemption, unless I feel that he isn't a threat."

At his outcry, she lifted her chin meeting his eyes, straight on, "You don't decide who I allow in my life Lucky. Get that point straight right now. If I decide that knowing Jason Morgan is important to me, there isn't a damned thing you can do about it."

They were words that would come back to haunt her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**"Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death..."**_

_The preacher's words echoed ominously as the blurry images rushed through his head. Pain shuddered through his chest, the weight of the Colt heavy in his palm, the grip burning against his skin as he reached the familiar sight of the bank doors. Slipping the gun back into the holster, he watched his hands slowly reach out and push them open._

_"Robin," his husky voice called out, and the crowd parted at the sounds of his heavy booted steps across the wooden planked floor. The scene was so familiar but with each forward movement, he hoped the end would be different. This time he wasn't too late. This time he saved her. There was no grief, no agony. No guilt. Part of him wished he could turn around and go back. Then he wouldn't see. Their concerned faces, all turning to horror as they looked at him in fear._

_"Robin?"_

_He finally reached her side, only to find that white nightgown smeared in dirt and blood, that one frail hand reaching out in plea. Lily. He knew it was a nightmare, knew the images were only a creation of his brain sent to haunt him, just as they had for the past ten years. This was just one more addition to a life lived by a bad man. A man his family would be shamed to know._

_He whipped is head up to find himself back at the Diamond C, the burned buildings, the dead men who had all trusted that he would keep them safe._

_"Should have known better," Sonny's voice resonated loudly, and he looked around for the source but finding nothing but smoke and ruin. "Should have known not to trust you."_

_"Sonny?" He shouted, trying to take a step forward but feeling trapped in the spot. Then he heard the sound, that click behind him that signaled he had let his guard down. Just like the first time and that damned voice._

_"I can make you famous."_

_The next move that would seal his fate, turn his life from one of vengeance and grief, to that of a man who always watched his back. It was a simple trick that Luke had taught him, one he had spent countless hours on the trail with the cattle perfecting. Until it was finally as natural as breathing._

_The barrel of the gun was in his palm, the trigger already being pulled as he continued to turn, the discharge loud in his ears._

_Only this time instead of the arrogant bastard who had been trying to further the name he made for himself catching the bullet high in the chest, falling to the ground with a look of surprise on his face, it was his son._

_"Wyatt!"_

_The boom of his voice rang in his ears, but it was too late._

_His small frame jerked at the impact, began falling backward with a stunned pain, the little hand that had gripped his today reaching out to him, but he couldn't move, was frozen and forced to watch the son he didn't know die. Dead because of him. They always died because of him._

_**"...I will fear no evil."**_

Jerking up from the pillow, his breathing harsh and loud in the darkened bedroom, Jason blinked past the nightmare and the terror that crept up his spin. He was used to the dreams, from the first time he rode out from Rose Creek they had haunted him. First with Robin, then the faces of people who had died at his hand along the way. Only recently had Sonny and his family joined the distorted pictures but this new one, seeing his son die at his hand was new.

Covered with sweat, he rose jerkily from the bed. If anyone had seen him during these vulnerable moments, they would have been shocked. Gone was the cold gunslinger of reputation. In his place was this ghost who could barely function. His body quaked with each movement, hands shaking so bad that if he had to pick up his gun, he probably would have shot himself.

Jason slipped into the pair of pants he wore today, digging around in his bags until the slim sticks were in his hand and rushed out of the room. His bare feet covered the sounds of his furious steps through the house, until he was safely out the backdoor without notice. The shaking was so bad that as he leaned against the side of the house, as he placed the cheroot in his mouth, brought the wavering flame to it's end, he wondered yet again when he would finally step over the precarious edge of sanity once and for all.

Drawing in a deep breath, taking a long drag and watching the tip burn bright red in the darkened night, the smoke filled his lungs, stung. He was half way through a third, before the quavering finally stopped and he was calm enough to slide down to the porch and sit.

Letting the cheroot burn within his fingers, Jason closed his eyes, finally feeling the cold night air drying his damp skin. He should have anticipated the nightmare. He couldn't afford to be caught vulnerable, there were too many variables now that he was back in Redemption, and he needed to stay on guard.

Seeing Beth, learning about Wyatt, trying to get past the disappointment in Luke's eyes and his mother's joy, he should have known he would be hit with one of the damned things. After the confrontation with the man Beth would tell him was his stepbrother, and Redemption's Marshall, they went into a restaurant and took a small table near the back to talk.

Little Ella was married now. He could barely believe it. The little sister who trailed after him, who had wanted to learn about the horses from him but only because she had a bad case of hero worship, was all grown up. Married to a banker of all people, though from the look of Lorenzo Alcazar he seemed capable of protecting her. Not only did he have a son, but two nephews and Ella was carrying a third as well.

Wyatt was close to Ella, which was good. There could never be too many people to love that boy, especially since Wyatt was stuck with him as a father.

Now that he was alone, Jason could finally think about everything that was certain to come. Luke already had his questions, the most important one, why had he come home. His mother took pity on him and held Luke off but Jason understood the reprieve was only to be a brief one. Tomorrow, he would have to face those questions, tell it all if he was going to find some way to stay here in Redemption to be with Wyatt.

Even then, he might not succeed. Might be taken off to prison, or worse yet, someone might take his own method of shoot first and apply it to him.

"I thought I heard someone out here," the gruff voice came from behind him, as the screen door closed. He waited until Luke sat down next to him dressed in pajamas and a black robe, gave him an inscrutable glare but he said nothing. "So you met Lucky today?"

"Um, hmm," he murmured, taking a slow drag and blowing the smoke out into the night air, "A bit of a hot head."

"Like his old man, unfortunately," Luke admitted, "No matter how much he may like to pretend otherwise." Luke sniffed and nodded slowly, "Came to Redemption about five years ago to find me. Had a brief relationship with his mother Laura back in Virginia. Pretty little waitress on a riverboat where I built my stake to come out here. I was long gone before she realized she was pregnant, was forced to raise Lucky on her own."

Jason lifted a brow, "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Yeah I do," Luke murmured, "Maggie May reminded me of that when you and Wyatt went to town." He gave a gruff chuckle, "Something about glass houses and stones." That sounded like his mother. "So I owe you an apology for how I reacted."

"You were right," Jason said softly, "So there's no need for any apologies. I left here with no thought to how it would affect anyone other than me. I couldn't see past my own grief and pain, and then I stayed away because it was easier than facing the man I had become."

"Did you find them?"

He stood then, stretching his long legs, feeling the tense muscles loosen finally, and his body calm. For the moment. "Yeah, I found them." The tone of his voice left no doubt that the men who had killed Robin were dead and also clearly stated that he had no intention of discussing it. Luke was never a man who left well enough alone.

"So how did you get mixed up in this gunslinger mess?"

How to explain to the man you idolized as a child that death became just a bit easier once you pulled the trigger for the first time. Though the faces haunted him, and he would remember each and every man he had killed, pulling the trigger was as much apart of him now as the color of his eyes.

"An idiot trying to make a name for himself," he answered simply. "I was in Kansas, tracking down a bounty and stepped out of a saloon and there he was waiting for me. Gun drawn, heard that I'd taken down the Kent boys back in Missouri. He pulled his trigger, I pulled mine and I was the last man standing. End of story."

"That's awfully goddamn cold. You used to have a bit more feeling boy," Luke said softly and Jason nodded in agreement.

"I used to be a lot of things Luke. I'm not anymore." He took another drag off the cheroot, "I got trouble coming," he admitted, figuring it was better to get it out now than later. "I might have to head out for a few days to deal with it. I don't want it to touch Mama or Wyatt."

"You coming back," Luke's tentative voice was just another reason for him to be ashamed.

"That's my plan, if I don't, I'll have word sent back."

"If you're dead you mean," Luke deadpanned.

"That's the only reason I'd abandon my son a second time," one corner of his mouth lifted in a mirthless smile. "I know my word doesn't count for shit after ten years of being away, but it is the truth." The only reason he'd ever leave Wyatt now was if he was dead. Unfortunately, that just might be the case.

Luke rose and Jason listened to his steps as they approached him, a hand slipping over his shoulder, "That's the problem Jason, you've never understood that you have a family here that loves you. That will support you no matter what."

"I can't let my problems hurt all of you."

"We hurt regardless," Luke answered solemnly, "Don't you think it's time you allowed your family to help you Jason. We let you run off because there just didn't seem to be anything we could do to help you. Maggie May thought it best to give you that time on your own. Never thought you wouldn't come back. We love you; there isn't a thing you could have done that will change that. No man you've killed, no line you've crossed, nothing."

Luke stepped around bracing both his hands on his shoulders and Jason could feel his eyes waiting for him to look up. When he finally did Luke said, "You're my son. I don't care that it's not my blood running through your veins, that I didn't create you with Maggie May. The day I met you, you became mine. I protect what's mine Jason, you hear?"

A sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth, "Yeah I hear."


	7. Chapter 7

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

* * *

_**Dead Or Alive**_

_**by Danigirl**_

_**Chapter Six  
**_

_**I'm going out in a blaze of glory, Take me now but know the truth  
I'm going out in a blaze of glory  
Lord I never drew first  
But I drew first blood  
I'm no one's son  
Call me young gun**_**  
**  
_Bon Jovi- Blaze of Glory_

"I'm not that much of a hypocrite."

The look on his mother's face after he uttered those words at breakfast this morning broke his heart, but it was the truth. There was no way he was going to step into a church this Sunday morning with so many sins on his soul. He was a man who made his living with his gun. He had killed more men than bore thinking on. He had turned his back on his family, his son, and hadn't looked back.

"All the more reason," she had murmured in that loving voice of hers. She wouldn't push, or try to force him into making a step he wasn't ready for, but all the same, those words made him think. Wyatt deserved a father worthy of the fragile trust Jason saw brimming in eyes so much like his own. His son didn't quite know how to act around him yet, circled him much like a wary colt, trying to decide if his father was a threat.

Perhaps it would have gone a long way toward reassuring Wyatt if he had opened that trunk and slipped into Jason Morgan's old life and pretended for the morning he was just a normal man, exactly like all the other fathers here in Redemption.

Only it wouldn't stop the whispers, or the pointed looks in his direction. That's all it would ever be, a pretense. For that Jason Morgan had died the moment he strapped on a gun with the intention of taking a life. Somehow, he would have to find a way around to being some kind of father to Wyatt, but he wouldn't start their relationship off with hypocrisy.

Maybe he didn't deserve forgiveness for the man he had become. How could he ask for forgiveness, when he didn't know if he could forgive himself? All he could do now was make sure his life didn't hurt the people who loved him.

So he watched his family ride away in the buckboard with Luke at the reigns after a promise he would join them at Beth's later on for supper. Then he went back in the house for the guns he had left off for the first time in longer than he could remember. He wanted to head into town, take a look around and see if he could get a lead on Matos.

The night of his nightmare, after he had finally calmed enough to think, he began to plan. The only way to get his life back and get that damned bounty off his head was to find Matos and make him confess. It wasn't going to be easy. The man had the money to buy off officials, and men for protection and Jason was just one man. Even his reputation wasn't enough to take on a force of gunmen with even fewer morals than he.

His remaining option was to draw Matos out. The man would be thirsty for revenge, considering Jason had killed three of his brothers so a few well placed rumors could bring Matos close enough to Redemption so that Jason could deal with him. Getting his family involved, despite Luke's words, was a last resort. Keeping Matos as far away from Rose Creek and his family was best. A repeat of the slaughter on the Diamond C would be the final nail in his coffin. There would be no turning back if something happened to his family.

The one drawback of his plan, if Matos learned of his location it would be a matter of time before the law figured it out as well. Last thing he needed was some Ranger riding in before he had the chance to force a confession out of Matos. The timing had to be perfect. There was just one problem with that line of thinking. When had his timing ever been perfect?

Riding into town alone gave him plenty of time to think. One thing that whispered through his head was Wyatt's mother, Cassie. His mother told him that she was seamstress in town. A sweet little blonde who had been happy to carry Wyatt, wanted to be a mother. When she died, she had made his mother promise that she would keep Wyatt away from her family. Why had she been so afraid of her family?

He had been so wrapped up in his pain, that he couldn't even draw an image of the mother of his son to mind. Those days were a blur of whiskey, guilt and rage. How had he even met her? How had he even been coherent enough to have sex with her? And what the hell was he supposed to tell his son? That his father had a drunken one night with his mother rolled out of her bed and proceeded to forget all about her?

Before he could come up with an answer, Kid passed the Marshall's office just as a familiar face was being released on the streets of Redemption. "Son of a bitch," he murmured, pulling up on the reins so he could watch unseen.

Lucky shoved the man off the porch with a sneer making him stumble a few steps before he glared back over his shoulder. To make matters worse, Lucky tossed his gun belt into the dirt, empty of guns and walked back into the building slamming the door shut. Jason knew if it had been dark, and a few less witnesses, Marshall Spencer would have been a dead man.

Jason slid out of the saddle, looping the reins around a hitching post and slowly made his way across the street. He watched the dark haired man bend to pick up his belt and drape it over his shoulder, then push his hat forward on his head. Tall, with a rangy body draped in all black, Jason knew the man was aware of his presence, simply biding his time. "State your business," the husky voice warned before slowly turning around. A smirk lifted the side of his mouth briefly. "Morgan."

"Drake."

Patrick Drake wasn't a man who tolerated much. He had a quick temper, an eye for beauty and a nasty disposition. Why women loved the man so much, Jason could never figure out. Maybe it was his Arapaho heritage that hinted at the forbidden. Or the lazy charm that Jason had seen at work on a few occasions. He did know why Drake was feared. The man's reputation was almost as bad as his own. Drake was pretty decent with a gun, smart as hell, but did his best work up close and personal.

Put a knife in Drake's hands and the man cut with a lethal precision.

They weren't friends, nor were they enemies either, which is why Jason gave the man a clear view of his hands before halting and leaning back on the balls of his feet. "What brings you to Redemption?"

"Family," he answered simply. "Heard you were in Texas," he paused squinting over at him, "Heard you had a bounty on your head as well."

"You hear a lot."

"Pays to stay informed."

"You planning to picking up that bounty?"

Drake looked at him for a long moment, taking his measure, then released a long slow breath and crossing his arms over his chest. "The way I figure, a man who went after the Matos brothers has enough to deal with."

Jason nodded once. Drake knew that he was set up. "What I'd like to know, is how Javier got tight with the Rangers?"

"Buy me a drink and maybe I can help you out with that." The words made Jason frown; it was also common knowledge that Drake didn't touch alcohol. Drake chuckled and freed that infamous smile that drew the ladies, "Hell Morgan, I mean coffee. A man could use a cup after a night behind bars."

Jason rolled his eyes at the thought of his step brother. Shit, he had a Marshall for family. If he wasn't careful his little brother would be putting him in a cell. "What did Marshall Spencer take you in for?"

"Smiling at his girlfriend," Drake inclined his head toward the saloon, "Seems he didn't like that beautiful Miss Samantha smiled back."

"Petite, brown hair, dark eyes?"

"Body that makes a man take notice," Drake finished, "Yeah that's Samantha. You met her?"

"Couple of days ago," he admitted. The image of the woman swam through his head along with the nagging feeling that he had met her somewhere before. Despite her fervent refusal, Jason knew that he had seen her face before. Without the opportunity to think on it more, he had pushed it out of his mind, but now that it was back, he knew that he wouldn't be satisfied until he figured it out.

Last thing he needed was a woman on his mind, but there it was.

"Well, from what I hear, Miss Samantha turned down the Marshall's marriage proposal and he's been making an ass of himself ever since. A man takes a look at her and he either ends up spending a night in jail or picking up his teeth." Drake explained.

Jason looked at the man's empty gun belt, noted the knives Drake usually carried missing and lifted a brow, "You chose option one I see," considering that Drake could have slit Spencer's throat and made time with this woman all in the same night.

"I'd hate to upset a lady," he smiled, but this time it didn't reach his eyes and Jason could see that layer of cold that was hidden behind his polite words. "Now about that coffee? Times' a wasting."

Jason shook his head, but said nothing as he followed Drake into the saloon. It was empty, except for a few people in the back. The place was more than he had been expecting. Nice actually, not the usual watering hole. There was an empty stage next to the bar, with a burgundy curtain pulled, which implied the Evening Star had nightly entertainment. The scent of food cooking wafted through the air, reminding Jason that it had been hours since breakfast.

They took seats at the bar, removing their hats and setting them on the bar. Drake caught the eye of a dark haired man who was on his way to the back. He nodded once in acknowledgement before going through the flapping doors.

"So," Drake began, "Matos."

"You hear anything about him?" He went straight to the point, "Preferably a location."

"I hear he has a Ranger in his pocket," Drake answered softly, "Named Lansing."

"Lansing," the name sounded familiar, "You mean Lansing who took down the Sorrel gang?" Everyone had wondered about that. Sorrel was a vicious son of a bitch who took pleasure in robbing payroll coaches and killing everyone who rode along. It wasn't enough just killing the men, what made Sorrel nasty was the way he staked out the bodies and left them for the animals, so by the time another stage came along, there was barely anything left to identify.

Lansing had become a hero for killing Sorrel and his hired gun Roscoe. Only now if what Drake was saying was true, it seemed Lansing had a hand in bringing down Sorrel. Matos' hand.

"That's the man," Drake confirmed, "So it's going to be next to impossible to bring down Matos. Frankly, I'm surprised you took out the other three. It was no secret that Matos wanted the Diamond C because he had an eye on Corinthos' wife. Every town he walked in he talked about his "wife to be" Lily." Drake drew in a deep breath, "The man is crazy Morgan, and you killing his brothers, well, let me just say I'm glad I'm not walking around with your name."

So Matos was out to kill him and using the Rangers to find him. If Lansing found him, Jason knew he wouldn't make it to a cell, let alone a trial. Matos would find some way to kill him long before that.

The dark haired man emerged from the back, walking behind the bar carrying a carafe of coffee. "Welcome to the Evening Star, what can I get you?" he asked when he stood before them.

"Coffee's fine," Jason gestured to the pot and watched as the man brought two cups and set them before them and began to pour.

"Nice place McCall," Drake accepted his cup with a mild thank you, "I don't think I had a chance to tell you that last night."

The man grunted with amusement, "Well, you were too busy making eyes at my sister and being arrested by Lucky, so I can understand you were a bit preoccupied."

"Jason, this is Zander McCall, proprietor of this fine establishment. Zander, Jason Morgan." Drake introduced, and Jason eyed him warily before nodding a greeting. Drake never did anything without a reason, so Jason didn't question the man's actions. If he wanted this Zander McCall to know his identity, there was just cause.

McCall gave his own brief nod of acknowledgement before speaking again, "We don't serve drinks until after sundown, but we have an open kitchen if you want something."

"I'll take some of whatever that is I smell," Drake spoke up immediately and Jason could practically hear the man's stomach growling. Seemed the law didn't feed the prisoners here in Redemption. If he wasn't headed to Ella's, he might have eaten as well. The scent of cooking food coming from the back was definitely not usual for regular saloons.

With a nod, he went to get Drake's meal leaving them alone again. "How long you in town for?"

Drake lifted his cup and took a drink, looking at him quietly over the rim, "Depends."

"Seems I'm going to need a little help. I could use an extra set of eyes seeing as I can't exactly get around much." Jason took a sip of his own coffee, letting the words resonate. The extra gun was a given. "You interested?"

"Playing fast and loose with death," Drake smirked, "As if I have anything else to do." He set the cup down on the bar and brushed his hand over his dark hair, then looked him over again. "Gunning for Matos and Lansing isn't going to be easy."

"He killed her," Jason murmured softly, setting his own cup down and turning to look at the bottles that lined the wall. "Lily. She was innocent. Her and that new baby Adella. Her son Michael. Matos slaughtered them, just like she was some animal."

He felt Drake stiffen beside him and knew he understood. Men like them had very few morals. Killing women and children was a line neither of them would ever cross. That's why he felt he could trust Drake, as much as he trusted anyone. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Just replace my guns and my knives, and we'll talk about the rest later," Drake answered, his voice just as cold as the sensations rushing through him. The image of that white gown rustling in the breeze never far from his mind. "I met Lily Corinthos once," Drake said softly, "I was passing through Texas on my way down to Mexico. She was kind to me when she had no reason to be."

Most men who lived their life met Lily Corinthos at some point. Sonny Corinthos had been a famous gun before he stepped away and married Lily. Determined to put the life behind him, he turned to running cattle but his reputation had been hard to live down.

The Diamond C was considered neutral territory and more than one gunslinger had bedded down in the Corinthos' bunkhouse and taken a meal with the family. Lily was a woman to be admired. She didn't judge them, didn't condemn, and always had a kind word despite the fact they were men who killed for a living.

Jason was just surprised there weren't more than the law after him. Yet it seemed understood Matos had set him up. No one was willing to take on the law and Javier Matos.

"I heard Ruiz got out a couple of months ago. Last I heard he was making his way back to Mexico but if he's passed through Texas he'll know what happened to Lily." Drake shrugged. "I know he'd be interested in knowing who killed his sister."

Manny Ruiz was a real threat. If he was stupid, someone would have killed him a long time ago. Ruiz was smart, methodical and that's what made him dangerous. Jason didn't worry that Ruiz would believe he killed Lily, he would work through his contacts until he discovered Matos' hand but his presence could make matters a whole lot worse.

They had met at the Diamond C before Ruiz was captured for killing a Marshall in Colorado. Ruiz wasn't a man Jason wanted to depend on, because he would be just as likely to shoot you as to shake your hand but beggars couldn't be choosers. "I need word to get to Ruiz," Jason said slowly, it was better to take a chance than to wait until the man made his presence known. He would accept all the help coming his way if it would bring down Matos.

Drake nodded, "I need to make a trip the mountains but afterwards I'll see what I can do."

Drake did say he was here to see family. Ruiz could wait, or the man would show up on his doorstep. Either way, Jason knew he would be speaking with the man soon. "You know where Rose Creek is?"

"Everyone knows the Spencer spread," Drake told him, "I'll stop in, in a couple of days to let you know when I'm heading out."

Jason rose, draining the coffee before slipping his hat back on. Digging in his pocket, he placed a small black bag next to his cup. Inside was close to a hundred dollars in both paper and gold. "That should replace your guns. Enjoy your meal."

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

"I'm sorry Zander couldn't join us," Beth's warm voice conveyed her regret as they walked through the large house toward the back where voices could be heard. Dusty held Kristina's hand and walked ahead of her through the beautiful rooms and occasionally looked over her shoulder with a look that was a combination of awe and 'what the hell are we doing here.'

This wasn't her or Dusty's first visit to the Alcazar home, but seeing just how wealthy Beth was always came with some sense of amazement. Back in New Orleans, families with this kind of money were never as kind as Beth and Lorenzo. The class distinction always played the most prominent factor in their society. When her family lost all of their money, they had quickly been ostracized. Beth and Lorenzo treated everyone of Redemption with the same respect whether they were wealthy or poor.

After services this afternoon, Beth had stopped them to invite them over for supper. A sort of welcome home gathering for her brother. Sam tried to refuse but Beth had grabbed her hands with a pleading expression, "There's a woman here from Boston, claiming she's Wyatt's aunt. She introduced herself to my parents, making veiled threats about wanting to take Wyatt back East with her. She heard that Jason was back and was demanding to talk with him. He's not going to just let her take Wyatt, no matter how much money or connections she thinks she has. I figure if there are guests she won't push Jason."

"Beth!"

The pregnant woman at least had the grace to look embarrassed, "I know, but I had to find someway to contain the situation. If you're there, Miss Boston will surely be on her best behavior," she drawled slowly, "That's not the worst of it."

"It can't get any worse than using me as a buffer," Sam shot back.

"Well," Beth wrinkled her nose, "Lucky kind of overheard us."

"Lucky!"

"I couldn't very well not invite him Sam, he is family after all," she gave her a pleading look, "After what happened between him and Jason the other day, it would have hurt his feelings if I hadn't asked him to come. You saw how he reacted to Jason. I know Lucky won't cause a scene if you're there. He'll be too busy trying to impress you."

"And that's what you're counting on, you scheming shrew," Sam rolled her eyes, barely holding back a burst of laughter.

"Have mercy on the pregnant woman," Beth smiled sincerely, "Besides, you get to meet Jason and who knows," she trailed off with a knowing look in her eyes.

"No you aren't matchmaking. I am not interested, Beth. And throwing me after your brother isn't exactly the way to keep Lucky calm." Sam shook her head not even bothering to hide her smile. Beth could be maddening, but she was also a good friend. "That baby you're carrying isn't going to stay in there much longer. How are you going to manipulate people then?"

"Me? Manipulate?" Her blue eyes widened with mock horror, "I'd never do that. Call it quietly influence."

"Coercion," Sam snorted.

"Persuasion," Beth smiled and looped their arms together. "Besides, Kristina can play with Cameron and Diego. My mother can convince Dusty to join the committee and you can keep me from taking Miss Boston out back, tying her to a horse and slapping it on the ass so that it can drag the annoying woman away."

"Yeah, I'd hate for your brother to have to arrest you," Sam gave in, knowing that her resistance was futile. Beth was just sneaky enough to actually do what she had just threatened. "Then Lorenzo would be forced to watch his wife give birth in prison."

As they entered the backyard, Sam's eyes were immediately drawn to the blonde woman seated with both Spencer men and Lorenzo. Holding court. It was the only description fitting of the picture she made, dressed in elegant violet, more suited for a drawing room than a backyard supper. Luke's expression was one of mild annoyance, and Lorenzo's was one step behind, while Lucky seemed to be in awe of her golden radiance.

"Sam, Dusty," Maggie May's voice came from her left, and Sam turned to see the beautiful woman setting a bowl onto the large table. "It's good to see you," a welcoming smile curved her lips, but even Sam could see the tension at the edges of it. She lifted a tiny tea cake from a platter and crossed over to them, kneeling down in front of Kristina. "And hello to you too sweetheart."

"Hi," Kristina smiled brightly, well acquainted with Maggie May's kind heart.

"Can she have a small treat?" Maggie May asked Dusty, and Kristina looked up with hopeful eyes. "I spoil all my grandchildren this way, so you'll have to forgive me."

"Pease, mama," Kristina asked softly and Dusty smiled indulgently.

"Just one, we don't want to ruin your appetite."

"Don't' worry about that," Maggie May gave up the small pink decorated cake, smiling when Kristina quickly took a bite, "She'll have plenty of appetite after all the running she'll do with Cam and Diego." She brushed a hand over Kristina's hair, "Would you like to see the horses?"

"Um-hmm," Kristina nodded over a mouthful of cake and looked again for permission.

"Don't worry, Wyatt and the hands will keep a good eye on her." Maggie May assured.

"Go ahead," Dusty released Kristina's hand, chuckling as she raced across the yard to Wyatt. The boy turned at the arms that grabbed his leg, a smile touching his mouth, then he lifted her onto his hip and walked toward the barn.

"You spoil her so," Dusty smiled softly, "Thank you. She doesn't have any grandparents."

The Spencers and Alcazars had always made them feel welcome. Maggie May's generous heart was Kristina's good fortune. "She's a beautiful little girl, I'm sure you're very proud."

"Mama," Beth called from the table where she was setting out two pies, "It's almost supper, has that idiot shown his face yet?"

"Elizabeth Alcazar," Maggie May reprimanded softly, "Your brother will get here. There is plenty of time." Then she smiled at them again, "Now, lets get you two something to drink," she led them over to the table, pouring her and Dusty both glasses of lemonade. "We decided to take advantage of the last warm days and have supper outside this evening."

"Thank you for having us," Sam smiled as she sipped the cool beverage, enjoying the nice tang on her tongue. "Zander sends his regrets."

"Of course," Maggie May instantly understood. Despite owning the Evening Star, Zander liked to be part of the running. The saloon wasn't very busy on Sundays until the evenings but Zander liked to be around just in case someone needed him.

"We should probably introduce them to Miss Matthews," Beth smirked as she lowered herself into a chair, placing her hands over her stomach rubbing slightly.

"Miss Matthews," Sam blinked as she finally put a name to the face, "She's staying at the Sundown."

Maggie May lifted a brow much the way her daughter did, "So you've met Courtney?" Judging from the tone of her voice, Maggie May wasn't at all impressed with Courtney Matthews of Boston.

"Briefly," Sam admitted, with a small smile of her own. The woman had been a nuisance for her entire stay. Making ridiculous demands of the staff, sending back meals uneaten and demanding replacements were just the lighter of her offenses. "She's," she paused, searching for a kind word.

"A pest," Beth offered with a quick laugh. Maggie May turned a look at her daughter but Beth was having none of it, "Am I lying Mama? From the moment she stepped inside our home she has done nothing but complain." Then she rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry, when she wasn't demanding attention from every man here," Beth drawled. "I know she's going to cast her eyes in Jason's direction. Money grubbing little ninny," she rolled her eyes. "I saw her eyeing that vase Lorenzo bought me from Spain."

"I don't think we'll have to worry about Jason, he can take care of himself." Maggie May chuckled.

"Of course I can." A masculine voice spoke up from behind her. The husky timbre sent shivers of awareness down her spine. "What's the problem?"

Sam turned, knowing who would be standing there, and wasn't surprised at the way her heart throbbed heavily against her chest. Today he wore all black, looking even more like the gunslinger of reputation. Yet this time was different, where before those blue eyes were icy cold, in that moment where he looked at his mother and sister they were warm, a startling blue, as blue as the October sky. In that moment he became even more breath taking than she thought possible.

Then his eyes flicked over to her, locked on her face and she saw something light within them. Her lips parted and she pulled a slow breath into her lungs, hoping he didn't see but judging from the way his gaze lingered on her mouth, she knew he had.

His easy gait drew him from the doorway to where they stood, his eyes never leaving her face. He didn't stop until he was several inches away, then his brows drew together in a frown. "I do know you."

It was the worst thing he could ever have said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them**

**Chapter Seven**

For months after that one dark night she witnessed death, Sam had dreamed of a face haunted with shadows and eyes burning with an intensity she could barely fathom. Those eyes. Even in their pain, the sorrow was so deep it reached out and grabbed hold of the deepest part of her heart. At night, buried beneath the covers and snuggled as far down as she could into the tiny bed _Madam _afforded her, she would fall asleep to the memory of this man and wonder how it would feel to love so deeply.

Common sense eventually asserted itself, and she cast thoughts of her shadowed stranger aside to get on with the business of escape. Now here they stood across from each other years later and all of those feeling were rushing back. The torment in his gaze even more poignant and her emotions were stirring in response. She had a name to put to her wraith and while part of her wanted to know more of him, she had to wonder if Jason Morgan was the precursor to the ruin of the life she had built here in redemption.

For the longest time they stared at each other recognition shining in those vivid eyes, sheer terror warring with denial in her own. Mentally she begged, pleaded for the words that could trip so easily off his lips not to come forth. There was more at stake here than her secrets and she couldn't allow one night to destroy the life that Dusty and Alexander were building here with Kristina.

She couldn't imagine Jason's family would hold their pasts against them, but not all here were as open minded. If word that she and Dusty had worked in a brothel reached the ears of the citizes of Redemption, especially the old biddies, the gossip would start. Then the outright snubs and any respect regained after the horror of New Orleans would be forever lost.

"That just isn't possible," she managed to choke out, hoping no one could hear the fear in her voice.

Blue eyes narrowed briefly and she thought he would disagree, instead he gave her the merest inclination of his head.

"Mrs. Spencer, I was wondering if your son had arrived yet."

Four pairs of eyes turned in the direction of that feminine voice. Sam didn't need to see the surprise on Beth and Maggie May's faces to know they were wondering how the elegant but inappropriately dressed Courtney Matthews had managed to cross the yard without any of them realizing it.

Torn between relief the irritating woman had interrupted and a spurt of jealousy from the clear interest in Courtney's eyes, Sam tried to take a discrete step away.

Only, it seemed Jason wouldn't be deterred. A large calloused hand closed briefly over hers, the slight squeeze and release, promised this conversation wasn't over. She should feel guilty over the way her heart skipped in her chest. And she definitely shouldn't be savoring the warmth of his hand, it's strength. Instead she dragged a shaky breath through slightly parted lips, immediately noticing how his eyes observed the movement.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure to introduce you, Courtney," Maggie May's dry tone proved she wasn't falling for the Easterner's act. She raised a hand in Jason's direction, "Courtney, this is my son, Jason Morgan." Her kind blue eyes focused briefly on her son, some silent message passing between them. "Jason, this is Wyatt's aunt, Courtney Matthews."

Clearly accustomed to being the center of attention, Courtney sashayed forward in a swish of expensive fabric and held out a hand. Lucky had tripped over his feet to grasp the delicate appendage, bow and place a light kiss to the waiting fingers. It seemed, Ms. Matthews was expecting the same from Jason. Beth rolled her eyes and turned to the table where she had been setting out food. Sam just wanted to escape this introduction but trapped between Maggie May and Jason ensured that she would be witness to every awkward second.

"Ma'am." Jason nodded once, touching a respectful hand to the brim of his hat but it was obviously not what Courtney was expecting.

"Well, Mr. Morgan, you're certainly not what I was expecting," she simpered, disguising the slight Jason had handed her just barely with a broad smile.

"And just what were you expecting?" The bluntness of his words surprised Courtney because her eyes widened dramatically. The rumors and gossip of Jason's return would have spread through Redemption to reach Courtney's ears by now. The argument he and Beth had in the street certainly was the topic of conversation this morning at the restaurant in eager whispers over breakfast and just before church services.

What exactly was Courtney expecting? A hardened criminal, rough and ready to shoot first and ravish the women afterwards? It was women like her that made Sam shake her head in exasperation. Easterner riding west for some adventure before running back home to settle down as her parents decreed with the man of the right social status. So close to her own tarnished roots, that Sam felt a little hypocritical for her harsh thoughts.

It wasn't Courtney's fault what had happened to her family, nor that she was the same sheltered woman Sam herself had been before being thrust into the colder side of reality.

"Not a man so well mannered and kind," she answered with an attractive smile. The woman probably thought that was some sort of compliment. "Certainly not with the reputation you carry."

"Well, I only kill men in my spare time," he retorted dryly.

"Jason!" Maggie May rebuked while Courtney tapped open her fan to flick nervously around her face to cover the rush of heat and embarrassment. Sam didn't miss Jason's mother's smirk of laughter barely covered by a hand and a cough.

Obviously neither did her son because for an instant Sam caught a teasing glimpse of humor in the sky blue eyes that matched his mother's. Mother and son understood each other very well despite their years apart. If Sam hadn't been staring at him, she might have missed that bit of softness in his otherwise steely façade and that definitely would have been her loss.

"Forgive my brother's manners," Beth called out as she walked around the table wiping her hands on a towel. She gave her older brother a playful elbow to the side and grinned. "Jase has always been a bit of a jackass."

"Neither of my children have manners," Maggie May sighed sadly. Beth looped an arm through Jason's, leading him over to sit and very pointedly away from Courtney. "Sam, Courtney, you'll have to excuse them."

"Certainly ma'am," Courtney allowed graciously, "I suppose my words were rather rude."

"Nonsense," Beth snapped back smartly, "It's always polite to inundate the siblings of your guests with the rumors and innuendo spread through town. Now, I'm going to the barn to get the kids for supper, Sam, if you'd be so kind to round up the others so that we can sit."

"It's no problem," she always knew Beth had a sharp tongue hidden beneath that layer of kind generosity. It was always interesting to see the results of those whipcord lashes on it's victims. Usually that sting was reserved for when she was especially riled and given Beth's considerable dislike for Courtney, Sam wasn't surprised when Beth let loose on the unsuspecting woman.

After a blessing from Luke, everyone dug into the delicious meal, laughter and conversation filling the air with the occasional burst of laughter from the children. Courtney was silent, still seething over her altercation with Beth, probably trying to figure out a way to retaliate without ruining her precious mask of femininity. In her own quiet way she tried to dominate the male focus of the table, which Lucky seemed more than happy to accommodate.

Dusty kept sparing her several concerned glances, but Sam could care less about the attention Lucky was fawning over the woman. The more he was entranced by Courtney, the less likely he would look in her direction. Then Lucky wouldn't notice Jason looking in her direction and how she desperately tried not to appear like she was not looking at Jason.

Part of her wanted to demand he turn that pointed gaze elsewhere. Except that would raise suspicion and Jason would most likely bring up the topic of conversation that she was trying to avoid. The last thing she wanted him to mention was exactly where he had seen her before. If wallowing in denial was the way to do so, so be it.

"I think it's wonderful here in Redemption, it will certainly be a shame when we head back East. Wyatt, I think you're going to enjoy Boston. The architecture and society. Schools for a better education-"

"Back East," Wyatt paused with a fork of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. "What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere?"

"Why of course you are," she smiled as if he were a silly child, "Why Father and Mother will be so ecstatic to meet you, now that we've found you. That's why I journeyed all this way. To take you home."

"This is my home," Wyatt's cold response wasn't missed by the other members of the Morgan-Spencer-Alcazar clan. Only by Miss Matthews. If Sam hadn't known that Jason was absent from Wyatt's upbringing for many years, she would swear the boy had inherited that steely tone from his father.

"Nonsense," Courtney waved away his feelings, "You're my nephew, and my sister would certainly want her son raised with the comforts and privileges she had as a child. You can always visit the rest of your family here in Redemption. Perhaps once a year? During summers maybe, after school."

A frown creased her face as she shook her head, "No Father likes to take the family to the country during the summer months. I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Is that what you really believe?" Beth demanded, but Lorenzo gently grabbed her arm before she could really get worked up. Maggie May and Luke looked like they were going to explode at any moment at the nerve of the young woman discussing their Grandson as if she had every right to swoop in and take him away. Wyatt was near fury, held down only by the tight grip Luke had on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem? Wyatt is a Matthews and will be raised as such. There is nothing wrong with Redemption, it's very," Courtney barely resisted turning up her nose, "Quaint, but nothing compared to the life he would have in Boston with the rest of the family."

"You're forgetting one small thing," Jason finally spoke up; the first words from him since they sat down to eat.

"And what would that be?"

The cold deadly expression on Jason's face was enough to run a shiver of dread down her spine. If Courtney had any sense, she would fear this man. This Jason looked capable of every rumor and story spread about him. Ironically, a smile spread across Maggie May's lips.

"Wyatt is _my _son. A Morgan. And you're not taking _my son_ anywhere."

_**ooXXoo**_

"That couldn't have gone better if I had planned it myself."

Maggie May settled onto the rocking swing across the yard into the loving embrace of her husband and tried not to grin like a Chesire cat. It was unbecoming. Instead she enjoyed the laughter of the children and their pleasure with the horses and thought more on those eye opening seconds that passed between her son and the lovely Ms. Samantha McCall. It would be interesting to witness the attraction unfolding between the two. She had seen enough mating dances to note the beginnings of one.

Part of her worried that Wyatt wouldn't be enough to keep her boy in Redemption. She wasn't as blind as he might have wished. For Jason to have returned there was trouble following him. Her heart refused to acknowledge that he just might have come home only to say good-bye. Jason would be confident that Wyatt would be taken care of in his absence. He might even be foolish enough to believe that Wyatt would be better off without his presence.

No, this little spark of interest in the fiery brunette coupled with his son's affection just might be the salvation of her boy.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear you had," Luke murmured before pressing a kiss to her temple. "Still, I have to wonder what game Ms. Matthews is playing."

The tense silence that followed Jason's declaration hovered in the air for the remainder of the meal. Every so often Maggie May would catch Wyatt watching Jason with a mixture of awe and curiosity. She could only imagine the feelings coursing through Wyatt at the power behind Jason's words. To know that his father would fight for him, and obviously cared for him was probably everything he had ever dreamed of.

Courtney on the other hand looked less than pleased with the response. She bid everyone a very false farewell, deciding to forgo dessert and return to her hotel claiming a return of travel fatigue. Lucky offered to escort her back, then looked torn at leaving Sam here with Jason. Whatever his feelings, Lucky must have felt Sam would be safe enough surrounded by the family even if Jason was still here.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the way she chose to look at the situation, the remainder of the time was much more enjoyable after their departure.

"I wondered if age had finally caught up to my darling husband's sensiblities." Maggie May thread her fingers into his and grinned.

"Goodness no. The manure that girl was shoveling was sharp enough to fertilize the south forty back at the ranch. I have to admit, she's good."

"I think it's funny how Cassie never mentioned a sister. Or this prominent family back in Boston. I wouldn't believe Courtney if she didn't look so much like her. And if didn't have the pictures of the two of them together."

"She certainly covered herself well. It makes me wonder if Cassie was running from something, or if Courtney is looking for a hand out."

That raised one of Maggie May's brow, "She has to know it would take nothing more than hiring a Pinkerton to discover everything there is to know about her. And no court in the country would dare take Wyatt away, despite Jason's reputation."

"We'll just keep an eye on her for the time being," Luke reasoned, "Make sure she doesn't sink her claws into either of my boys. I'm getting too old to bury bodies."

Her burst of laughter, beautiful and melodious, drew her family's eyes but they merely attributed to the loving relationship between her and her husband.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

_**You ask about my conscience  
And I offer you my soul  
You ask if I'll grow to be a wise man  
Well I ask if I'll grow old  
You ask me if I've known love  
And what it's like to sing songs in the rain  
Well, I've seen love come  
And I've seen it shot down  
I've seen it die in vain  
--Blaze of Glory, Bon Jovi**_

He could smell death on the air.

As a man with blood on his hands, his nose could narrow in on the scent of it like it had with his dead Nana's _marranitos _baking in the oven when he was a child. By the time the exhausted paint he'd driven for more than eight hours limped into town, the oppressive cloud had him worried.

It was months since he'd seen his _hermanita _last but years ago he had entrusted her safety and welfare to a more honorable man than he. During the brief ceremony in the church at the edge of town, all who witnessed the small tender smile that touched his face were almost terrified. Many even grimaced, unable to associate this soft emotion with the bloodthirsty ruthless killer he was known to be.

Her face shone with the beauty of all things good and pure as she joined her life to a man humbled by her love. It was a feeling most felt around Lily. There was a kindness of spirit inside his _florecita _that drew the heavy hearted like a moth to flame.

As he looped the leather reigns around the hitching post he couldn't help but notice the expressions of grief on the people who were on the street. Several women, even those putas who spread their legs for money in the tiny rooms over the saloon, were dressed in their mourning clothes. It gripped his heart without him knowing why. And yes, that worried him.

And when Manny Ruiz worried, a smart man had reason to fear.

He'd killed more men than most and in ways that could turn the stomach of even the most hardened of his kind. He had no preference. A gun was nice, could make a man dance. A knife was better, twist in the gut and a spill of blood. He'd killed for money. He'd killed for revenge. Hell, he'd killed just for the hell of making a man scream like a newborn babe and most time he enjoyed himself.

The watering hole was empty as he stepped through the wooden swing doors. Strange, he knew as he cast a glance around the shabby establishment. A place like Lucky Strikes was always busy come sunset. Men in for a shot of whiskey before heading back to their ranches or off a cattle drive looking for a hot meal and a warm body, all found their way through these doors as the light slowly faded in the sky.

Especially the one who were like him, just no damned good and rotten to the core. A hand of cards were always waiting which usually resulted in a quick draw and a visit to the undertaker. But that was just a regular night.

These faces were drawn as well, lines carved deeper than the usual hardships of men who weighted themselves down with guns. The barkeep caught his eye, froze like a jack rabbit ready to become an evening meal, and almost dropped the glass he had been drying. It wasn't just his reputation that put the fear of God into the old man, no it was something else and the more he thought about it, the more the twist in his gut began burning.

The shot of whiskey he'd been anticipating was replaced with the need to see her.

By the time he departed the next morning on a fresh horse heading for the mountains of Wyoming, Manny Ruiz had murder in his eyes.

_**ooXXoo**_

"New Orleans right?"

The petite woman startled badly from her place in front of the window of his sister's study. Long dark hair pulled into one of those fancy twists his mother liked to wear to church framed a face meant to inspire men. He remembered one of those old stories his mother had read to him, greek tragdies, she called them. Helen of Troy. A woman who started a war. Jason could imagine a woman like the one before him driving men to madness all with the crook of her finger.

Carefully concealed beneath a moss green gown were curves to get lost in. She had full lush breasts meant to entice that no amount of material could hide and a waist his hands would surely span.

But it was her eyes that had haunted his memories until he finally realized exactly where he had met her before.

"Beg pardon?"

He wondered how hard she worked to clean the Creole from her voice. Everything about New Orleans remained burned in his memories to torture him. The oppressive humidity that sweated through his clothes. The voices so thick sometimes he could barely understand. The rich food and the music so melancholy at times it stirred the soul.

The dark alley were he killed two men for the first time.

Those wide innocent eyes watching him from the doorway of the brothel.

"New Orleans," he stepped further into the room, closing the door a discrete distance so no one would easily hear their conversation. "That's where I've seen you before. _Le Desirez_?"

Fear leapt into her those eyes, eyes rich like the finest of bourbons with the capacity to be be just as warm. It suddenly struck him that fear had been amazingly absent that night in the depths of his darkest nightmares. Vulnerablity, certainly. Some emotion he couldn't yet put his finger on, yes, but not fear.

"You can't say that again," she crossed quickly to him then, looking around nervously before placing restraining hands on his arms. It shocked him for a moment, she so freely touched him were most wouldn't dare. "Please, for goodness sake, you cannot say the name of that place again."

"I'm not here to reveal your secrets," he murmured, "I just needed to know for certain."

"I'm surprised you remember," she sighed, closing her eyes tiredly. He knew he hadn't been fair to her today, leaving her terrified that at some point he would say something about the past she was obviously hiding. "It's been years. And you barely said ten words to me."

"You remember," he pointed out and her gaze snapped back to his, with more bite this time.

"It isn't every night I witness two men being killed."

And those words were enough for him to take a step away. And wonder at the loss of warmth those slender hands provided. When he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm again, this time her grip determined, forcing him to glance down at her. "Are you planning to say anything?"

"What happened that night in that alley isn't something I speak of." He told her truthfully. It wasn't his place to expose her past. His own burdens were heavy enough for him to bear, he had no need to carry hers.

"I thank you," her gratitude grated for some reason he couldn't understand. She had nothing to be ashamed of from where he stood. Evidently she had left that life behind and made a better one for herself. From the way the Marshall Spencer was carrying on with his possessive protective attitude, she was involved with a man on the right side of the law. "Not just for me, there are things in my past-"

"I understand," he stopped her halted words, "You don't owe me any explanations. It just stuck with me that's all."

"What?" she frowned and he realized he had said more than he should have. When he shook his head, she tighted her grip on his arm. "No really, what stuck with you?"

"Your face," he admitted quietly, watching the various emotions that flickered across her face at his words. Surprise. Understanding. Pleasure. That one threw him. What reason would she have to be pleased as far as he was concerned.

"My face?"

"Yes, but you don't need a man like me to tell you you're beautiful."

They weren't unfamiliar words. Many men had acknowledged her beauty. Before her family lost everything, she had her pick of suitors for the coitions and balls. Her social calendar had been full, so that when the Jacks family finally approached her father for marriage each eligible canadate had been carefully scrutinized.

Men from _Le Desirez_ had spoken in low greedy tones of appreciation of her face and body. Each trying to be the first to slide between her legs. All stalking away in anger when she rebuffed their advances.

Even Lucky had expounded on her beauty, though she had trusted his awkward words more than any of the others. Except he seemed determined to place her on a pedastal, making her feel guilty for not trusting him enough with her past.

Not any of those words touched her the way Jason's had. He didn't want anything from her, except maybe to escape the memories her presence forced him to relive. There was no need to lie to him about her past, for he knew the worst of her secrets and even if he hadn't Sam knew that Jason wouldn't have held any of it against her. He wouldn't be appauled like her suitors from New Orleans, nor would he be treat her like trash like those customers had when she removed their hands from her body. And she didn't have to fear the shame and embarrasment that would lay in Lucky's eyes.

"I thank you," she finally released him by taking a step away to give him leave to escape her presence. Before he could reach the door, words she hadn't expected flew from her lips. "The woman?" Eyes pinned her then, cold as ice and she placed a hand to her stomach to stop the fluttering.

She should have been afraid of the intensity in his gaze, but her body was dancing along the edges of awarness instead. Her pores opened, a flush of heat climbing her neck to spread across her face. "They killed her, those two men. I heard you." Why was she doing this? The flare of grief in his eyes was old but not as strong or deep as that night in the alley.

"Yes they did. You've lived here in Redemption long enough to have heard the story I'm sure. There is nothing the people here like more than keeping the grapevine active with fresh gossip. I've been the center of it for more years than I care to remember."

"Robin? That was her name, Robin. She was your fiancee," she nodded. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it must have felt like to lose her that way." Her eyes widened as she realized just how those words must have sounded. "I'm sorry."

Jason frowned, allowing his steps to bring him back before her. He stared at her for a long time before responding. "I loved her but not as much as I should have and she died. It was my fault that she died just as if I had pulled the trigger myself."

"I don't believe she would think that. But what would I know, I've never had a man love me."

"And what would you know?" The bitterness in his voice was ugly, near the edges of rage. It seemed this wound had yet to heal. No, she shouldn't be prodding him so but there was just this whisper inside her that wanted to know how this man would be whole. Healed. How he would love. "You know nothing about Robin, so can you think you know how she would feel!"

"I know if a man loved me as much as you loved her," she whispered, closing her eyes, afraid of what she was revealing not only to him but to herself as well. "Loved me enough to hunt down the men who had killed me, I wouldn't want him hurting forever. Because I would know how much I was loved. I would know how blessed I was to have known a love like that."

When she opened her eyes, emotions blurred them so she couldn't tell if the tears in his sky blue gaze was real or not. She didn't imagine, however, the trembling hand that touched her cheek just for a second, or the way it made her want to preen like a kitten and lean into the caress.

"You need to stay away from me," his voice was rough and shaky before he abruptly snatched his hand away.

As she watched him stalk from the room, she couldn't help but wonder if he meant those words as a threat to her or a warning to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine**

Sam managed not to think about Jason Morgan and his tortured eyes for three days. That wasn't including the mornings when she awakened alone in her bed just a bit warmer, achy, than normal. It didn't include the whisper of a dream just at the edge of her consciousness of a pair of hands, slightly rough and calloused, moving across her skin.

Then she would leave the comfort of her covers and prepare for the day without giving the dangerous man another thought. Only to repeat the process all over again.

It wasn't as if her days weren't busy. Working at the hotel and helping Dusty out in the resturaunt then ending the night over at the saloon had her falling into bed at night exhausted. Each night she would tell herself she wouldn't think of him again. Not his eyes. Not his handsome face. Nor his body. Each morning would greet her with failure.

Her time at _Le Desirez_ must have corrupted her somehow.

"I don't think you can slice those onions any thinner, Sam."

Blinking free of her thoughts, Sam glanced down at the pile of onions she had been cutting for the gravy for the roast that Dusty was preparing for lunch. "Well, damn." She set the knife down on the chopping block with a grunt of disgust. "It's mush. Why didn't you say something?"

"It's fine," Dusty lifted a few slices, and though rather thin she was right they were salvageable. "Besides, you've been drifting off to la-la land for days now. I figured when you were ready to talk about it you would."

She hadn't told Dusty or Zander about Jason knowing the truth of their orgins. If she had, they might ask questions and due to the circumstances of that night didn't feel it was right to tell them. It was disloyal, they were her family and deserved to know if there was a threat to their happiness. Yet for some reason she trusted that Jason wouldn't say anything. Besides, he had more things to think about than her and her secrets. The man probably hadn't given her a second thought since he walked away from her. She was the one in the throes of obession.

When she looked down again, she noted everything in front of her was missing. "What? Where?"

"Oh, you were off daydreaming again," Dusty's calm voice came from over by the stove where she stirred a cast iron skillet and the scent of cooking onions began to fill the air. "Dare I hope you were thinking of Lucky?"

"No," Sam grimaced at the very thought. Never had Lucky tied her into these many knots. "I told you, I don't think of Lucky that way."

A tawny eyebrow shot up at those words, while a smirk curved Dusty's lips, "So you were thinking about someone that way. Care to share?"

"That's not what I meant," she stuttered.

"Please, you're blushing and Sam McCall doesn't blush. Was it the guy who was teasing you the other night while you were playing. What was his name," a slim finger tapped briefly against Dusty's lip. "Doc Drake," she recalled with a smile. "Attractive, a little on the lanky side but he had a nice face."

"Dusty," Sam admonished barely restraining a giggle, "What would my brother say if he could hear you?"

"Your brother doesn't listen to women gossiping. Those are his words not mine. Besides, I have eyes. I can see. So was it him?"

"Not that I was thinking of anyone that way," Sam hedged, walking over to the sink to wash the smell off her hands. "But no, not him."

"Well we've been here for a few years now and the only man in Redemption you thought to give a chance was Lucky and that didn't pan out. Doc is the only new arrival to town that I know of who showed an interest in getting to know you so if it's not him then," at each word her voice seemed to trail off, the spoon in her hand forgotten as her mouth opened in shock.

"Now Dusty-"

"It's Jason!" She announced as if having won a contest. "You've been making cow eyes about Jason."

"That's not true."

"It is so true," Dusty snorted with glee. "Now that is one fine man you've been thinking on, so you don't have to feel bad. I'm sure more than one woman has had a few impure thoughts about the prodigal Morgan son since his return."

"I am not having impure thoughts." Hating the turn of conversation, Sam busied herself with snapping green beans into a large bowl.

"If not, then you should." Dusty chuckled huskily. At her glare, her sister in law merely rolled her eyes, "Oh please. He is an available man. You are a single woman. And they are just thoughts, Sam. It's not like you closed yourself in a room together and acted on those impure thoughts."

Dusty paused, a frown creasing her brow, "You haven't have you?"

"Of course not! Do you think I'd risk all we've made here for a fling with Jason Morgan?"

"Is he worth it?"

"I barely know the man." She grunted with a particularly brutal twist on the innocent vegetable in her fingers.

"But you're not denying the impure thoughts either."

"Dusty," she released a heavy sigh, lowering her head. Guilt, for not warning her family, for thinking so on a man who didn't want her, it was all weighing too heavily on her shoulders.

"Hey," the blonde turned the fire off the skillet and wiped her hands on the towel tucked into the apron on her waist. A few seconds later, Sam was enveloped in a hug that she hadn't known until that moment just how much she needed. "I was just teasing, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know. It's just this has me so confused and I don't know what to do about it."

"I take it this is how you wanted to feel for Lucky?"

"Yes and no. Jason doesn't want me, Dusty. I think his heart is still too torn up about his fiancee's death to be interested in another woman." She said nothing about the woman who gave birth to Jason's son. They both knew that a man could lay with a woman and not feel anything more than passing lust. Given Wyatt's age, not much time could have passed beyond Robin's death before he met Wyatt's mother. Grief and sex often went hand and hand.

"It's been more than ten years Sam. Whether he knows it or not, some of that hurt has healed. Time does that despite our wishes. Perhaps he just needs a little nudge in the right direction."

"I don't want to nudge a man to want me," she muttered. It was demeaning.

Dusty's snort told her feelings about that. "Every man needs a nudge in some way or another."

"And have you forgotten the rumors that he's a gunslinger?"

"I wonder if his hands are as fast as they claim." Sam leaned back eyes wide with shock at her sister in law's implication. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about the benefits a woman could have."

The blush that spread heat across her face and down her neck clearly stated that she had thought about it. "Shame on you."

"Please. It's a smart woman who considers those things before marrying. Can you imagine being tied for the rest of your life to a man with absolutely no talent-"

Shoving away from her sister, she grabbed a dish bucket and towel from the side bar, "Not listening," preparing to enter the dining area and clean tables. "Not listening!"

"I wonder if his tongue-"

"AAAAHHHH! Not listening!"

_**  
xxOOxx**_

"You're certainly a difficult man to track down."

Dark eyes filled with hatred and death looked up from the camp fire he was stirring, "Only a man with a death wish would approach me." Slowly he unfolded from his squat to take in the hardened man who had managed to sneak up on him. Or a man with a reputation as deadly as his own, Manny Ruiz thoughtfully amended.

"Well," he shrugged, a smirk twisting against his lips, "Death comes to us all."

"And some beg for it when they meet me."

"I have done many things in my life. Many of them would have me hung. Begging is not one of them."

A sliver of light from his fire bounced off something silver and Manny noted the gleam of knives held in a loose grip. Hands that could throw a knife in darkness with complete accuracy, imbedding a blade in a man's chest or skull before a shot was ever fired. A sight he had witnessed first hand.

"So what can I do for you Drake?"

Doc Drake walked from the shadows wearing his Indian heritage in that moment than most had ever seen. Leather breeches, bleached and softened from time, clung to his legs, moccasins making each of his steps silent as any true predator. The leather tunic hung loose from his frame, probably more for warmth than anything else.

"Conversation. For starters."

Agreeing to nothing, Manny went back over to his bags, removing the coffee he had stored there so he could make a pot. Drake watched him in silence, when Manny sat to wait for the water from his canteen to heat, the man finally spoke.

"I'm here on behalf of Morgan."

"And what would a dead bastard have need to speak to me?" The implication was there. He knew that Morgan was involved in his hermanita's murder and he was on his way to find the man who had killed her. It hadn't taken much persuation from the puta in town to spill what she knew. If she was lucky in a few days those bruises on her face would heal just fine.

"I hear Matos is short some brothers these days." Drake leaned against the largest rock among the cropping he had decided to make his camp around for the night.

Eyes stared in consideration for a moment. Manny Ruiz might not be the smartest man, and he might be a killer but he wasn't stupid. "So you say."

"I also hear that Javier had taken a liking to a certain "little flower" and was claiming that he would have her or no one would."

The puta had lied to him, he growled inwardly. No one lied to him and lived to tell another day. "And why should I believe this?"

"Because Morgan and Corinthos were friends." And all of their reputation knew that Jason Morgan didn't have friends. "I am sorry for your loss Manny. Lily was a kind woman. Pure. She deserves to be avenged."

"And this is why you're here?" grunted past the rage and pain in his chest.

"Morgan is going after Matos and asked for a hand. I'm obliging. Asked for your hand as well. Interested?"

Jason Morgan spent years hunting down the men who had killed his fiancee in a bank robbery. When he set out to kill a man, it was a certainty the man would soon be making the rounds with the undertaker. They were on different sides of the law, just barely, but Morgan knew the taste of vengence and death well.

"I'm in."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten**

Huddled into a corner of the hotel room, a frightened brunette watched her mistress pace the small confined space, wary of speaking for fear of incuring the volitile blonde's wrath. She had learned very early in her employment with the Matthews family to be seen and not heard, unless her mistress granted. To be available with sage advice but always agree with everything the mistress said.

It was a fine and delicately balanced line she walked, but Emily Bowen had many years to become a master.

She could still remember her arrival to the large and rather imposing Boston mansion. After her father died of consumption, her mother had been hired as an upstairs maid in the Matthews household. She had gone from a happy well adjusted ten year old girl to the companion of two eleven year old twins Cassandra and Courtney. Never a more spoiled and self indulged pair of girls had she ever met.

After her mother died, Emily thought she would be dismissed from the household, yet Cassandra had surprisingly begged her parents that she be allowed to remain. At fifteen, Emily was grateful, there wasn't much for a orphan alone in Boston outside of the affluent neighborhoods. Her choices had been an early marriage, the prayer of employment as a kitchen maid, or the streets.

The two had grown closer then, much to the elder twins ire. Cassie shared her lessons, so that Emily would have some education and etiquette. Loaned her dresses and refinery, though out of season for the heiress were just fine for a servant. And finally became a friend.

It was the arranged marriage at her eighteen birthday that drove Cassie away. Emily had been quite hurt that her friend hadn't shared her plans to run away but she understood. Especially after meeting the Quartermaine heir destined to be her husband. Behind the gentleman exterior, Alan Quartermaine Junior was a mean drunk who had been determined to claim Cassie as his own. After the humiliation of Cassie's disappearance, the elder Matthews sister had been forced to wed Alan Junior which was the beginning of the Matthews' downfall.

No one knew that Alan Junior had squandered the Quartermaine forturne, as most societal families in dire straits became adept at hiding their circumstances. After marrying Courtney and gaining control of the Matthews properties and bank accounts, he proceeded to plow through the massive fortune with the same speed and stupidity as he did a bottle of French Brandy.

No one truly cried when Alan Junior finally drank himself into an early grave but Courtney's father had charged her with recouping the family's losses and the only way possible for a woman of Courtney's upbringing to gain wealth was to marry it.

How she regretted showing Courtney the letter from Redemption.

She naively thought Courtney would want news about her sister, yet that letter had been used in a way Emily never would have agreed to had she known otherwise.

Emily flinched as Courtney picked up a bottle of lilac scented lotion and threw it at the wall, shattering the fine glass and sending it's contents spraying across the wall. Just one more thing she would have to clean up. The woman had managed to make the entire room appear as if a tornado had ripped through it. Satiny materials of beautiful multicolor hues were scattered haphazardly across furniture. Toiletries lay in broken waste on the floor.

Strangely a kidskin ankle boot hung drunkenly off the corner of a chair.

"I need a plan, Emily." The blonde spun around, disheleved and irrational, and rather intimidating even in her unmentionables. "The last thing I want is to be tied down to some brat, I had enough of that being married to AJ for twelve years. I have to make the Spencers believe that I'll take the boy back to Boston with me."

"You know," Emily began quietly, squirming yet again when her Mistress turned violent blue eyes on her. "Redemption isn't so bad, perhaps we could just remain here. Cassie found something to like about it."

"Cassie was a fool," Courntey snorted, pushing strands of hair away from her face. "She managed to get herself knocked up but didn't reel the stupid rube in and marry him. While I'm stuck saving the family's reputation back home married to that bastard she foisted off on me."

"It wasn't Cassie's fault that Mr. Matthews decided you should marry Mr. Quartermaine."

"It wasn't Cassie's fault," Courtney mimicked nastily. "She left you behind Emily. I'm the one who kept you on. I'm the one who has been kind enough to allow you to remain in the Matthews household. Not Cassie. I should have your loyalty not her! Besides, she's dead."

How a woman could be so cold blooded about her own sister, Emily would never understand. "Still, I noticed Marshall Spencer seems to be taken with you." The man had managed to find his way to their table for the last three nights for supper and could barely managed to take his eyes off Courtney. "Maybe if-"

"And what about Boston?" Courtney asked her voice growing in hysteria, "Am I supposed to simply give up everything I have there so I can marry a Marshall of all things in the wilds of Wyoming? What about our fortune? What about my position? My guilds and charity work?"

As if she did those things out of the kindness of her heart. "Who says you couldn't continue those things here? From what I understand, Mrs. Spencer, along with the other affluent women of Redemption have a long list of worthy causes. Such as the proceeds from the Autumn dance going toward building the new schoolhouse for the older children to continue their education. I'm sure they could use your generousity and help."

"It isn't the same," the blonde sat on the edge of the bed with a pout more befitting of the eleven year old Emily remembered. "Besides, Mother and Father need me to make a prosperous marriage. I have to stick with my plan. I convince Jason to marry me, so that Wyatt will have a mother and a father."

Giving a firm nod, Courtney moved to the chair in front of the mirror and snapped her fingers. The well known signal for her to begin brushing her hair. Emily rose slowly, still unsure of the blonde's temper and picked up the silver brush from the floor.

"A few threats, and some tears and then we should be able to compromise." A grin began to spread across Courntey's lips, even more frightening than her fury. Emily cautiously ran the brush through the tangled locks, preparing it for the chignon she would style.

"Are you certain about this?" Frankly, Jason Morgan did not look like a man who could be moved by tears or threatened but it was probably wise not to speak those words aloud. Courtney acutally seemed calm now that she was back to her plotting.

If the woman had an ounce of sense, she would gain the Marshall Spencer's attention, marry him and build a life of her own. If she was so determined to move in polite circles, she could befriend Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Alcazar, they seemed to be important and affluent here in Redemption.

Going after Jason Morgan was going to bring Courtney nothing but trouble and heartache.

"It's going to be fine. By spring, I'll be Mrs. Jason Morgan Spencer, we'll move back to Boston and live in the style of which I was born. We will leave this godforsaken dust trap behind and everyone will be so envious of my dark mysterious and dangerous husband who just happens to have more money than Midas."

Courtney looked down at her fingernails, and Emily was grateful that in her anger she hadn't ruined them. "Besides if Lucky Spencer strikes your fancy so much, perhaps you should go after him. He's certainly not within my class. Could you see him trying to fit in at one of Alexis Cassadine's functions?"

The bark of laughter was just as mean spirited as Courtney's words. Yet neither could Emily imagine Jason Morgan at one of those black tie snooty parties either.

"No," Emily sighed sadly, wondering just how badly this would all end. "No, Mistress, I can't."

_**ooXXoo **_

"So what do you think?"

Jason ran his hand across the distended belly of the horse, closing his eyes much as he had many years ago as the familiar knowledge slowly crept back through his mind. He had thought he was only capable of killing these days. Feeling life stir beneath his fingertips reminded him of the man he had left behind.

Part of him stayed cold, behind the unfeeling barrier he had built to not only keep himself safe but sane. That part wanted nothing to do with the emotions his determined mother was trying to stir to life.

It began under the pretense of needing his help, which of course he had seen through right away. Maggie May Morgan knew more about horses than he could ever imagine, though years ago he had felt that he would probably gain that same knowledge one day.

Years ago he had hoped to pass that knowledge on to his children.

Then his mother had used that same hope against him by inviting Wyatt down to the barn as well. Telling him most assuredly, any deviousness in his nature was aquired from this woman. Rather than disappoint the bright look of hope in Wyatt's gaze, he had agreed to follow her down. Ignoring her frown when he strapped on his guns.

Walking down memory lane did not include stupidity.

After Drake's late night visit before heading out to hunt down Ruiz, he knew things were going to get dangerous soon. The last thing he wanted was for his family to pay for the choices he had made. The best he could do for them was keep them safe. Safer than he had Robin.

The horse shook her head, ears alert to their voices but accustomed to human touch. In fact, he would say she was positively preening under the ministrations of his hands.

"She's close," he answered finally, a firm rub across her flank to her thigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if she foaled sometime tomorrow night."

"And I get to help right," Wyatt's eager voice spoke up at his side. "You promised Grandma. You said next foal and I get to help."

"So I did," she nodded, ruffling his tawny hair which earned a rebellious grunt and squirm of disapproval.

He could have told the boy to enjoy those loving touches. The careless ones, so full of love and affection. Those were the ones you missed the most when they were gone. Those were the ones you craved on dark cold lonely nights on the trail with only death as your companion.

"Guess that means you're helping out," she winked with a smile, "I tell you Jason, this one is just as eager as you used to be." Wyatt's head immediately perked to attention, wanting more information about the man he had learned was his father. "By the time he was your age, your father had been through three birthings, determined to know everything so he could have the best horses in the state."

"The country," he murmured without realizing. At two sets of blue eyes exactly like his own were on his face he knew he had spoken that lost dream aloud. "Morgan horses were going to be the best in the country. With Mama's hand-"

"And your determination-" she interrupted.

"We were going to be the best," he nodded slowly. "It was a fine dream."

One that would never come true under his hands. It was too late for his dreams. Especially those about the brown eyed vixen that continued to haunt him each night. Lord but she was vexing. It wasn't sex, hell he could ride into the next town and scratch an itch if need be. Samantha McCall was a confusing mixture of vulnerablity and strength, beauty and intelligence, and the promise to keep any man worth his salt on his toes for the rest of his life.

The differences between her and Robin were striking. Robin was all kindness and sweet. Sam, sultry spice. Since meeting Sam, and with everything he had been through he wondered what he would have in common with Robin now. Sam on the other hand, he just seemed to instinctively know would be a warm welcoming heart for the tired man he was now.

If he was interested. His body certainly was and these emotions his mother seemed determined to force him to face had been piqued. The nightmares told him otherwise. Sam certainly didn't need a man who fell out of bed, desperate for the need of a cheroot to calm the shaking in his hands.

The gun at his waist silenced thoses needs. Sam didn't need a man in her life who had blood on his hands and death darkening his soul.

And the fact that he could be a dead man soon quelled any thoughts of a future his private insanity might have begun fantasizing about. Dead men didn't have futures.

He knew what his mother was trying to do. Pull him back home. To family. To the life he had left behind. Yet none of it, not even the miracle that was his son was possible until Matos was dead. Perhaps then, he'd be worthy of this little boy. Perhaps he'd see if that spark of interest he'd seen bloom in Sam's eyes meant the same as his own.

"If Fancy Face is going to foal soon, then I'm going to need some supplies from town," his mother broke the building silence with her loving voice. It was just her way, knowing his mind was troubled and despite his protests to the contrary, knowing working with the horses would soothe him until he was able to work through his problems. For once he was glad his mother could see into him so well.

"We could go get them," Wyatt offered, with a smile just shy of sneaky. "I mean, I know you were busy, because I saw the apples you were putting up, so it wouldn't be right to stop in the middle of all that when we could ride into town and pick up the supplies for you. Right Jason?"

Everyone in the Morgan-Spencer household knew that when Maggie May was canning fruit, there would be pie for dessert. No one made pie like his Mama. He placed an understanding hand on Wyatt's shoulder, silently assuring the boy he would go along with his little plan.

"It's no trouble, Mama. It would give Wyatt a chance to ride Jilly like he's been trying to all week," Jason smirked, knowing the boy would protest.

"I have not!"

"Sure, and sneaking her sugar cubes, checking her shoes and rubbing her down every night is just your way of being friendly."

"It's a strange barn," Wyatt reasoned, "I didn't want her to be afraid."

"Of course you didn't," his mother agreed with a wise smile, "I bet she's fast though. Fast enough to ride into town and make it back before dinner. Much faster than if I had to ride in myself."

"Just make a list," Jason told her, "We'll saddle up and bring back whatever you need."

For once he didn't think to flinch when a tender hand reached forward to cup his face.

"Jason? Can I ask you something?"

Wyatt looked over at his father, making certain to keep a sure grip on Jilly's reigns. His pleasure and shock at being allowed to ride the horse kept a wide grin on his face for most of the trip into town. He hadn't expected to be allowed Jason's horse, though he certainly had wished. Now sitting in the saddle, he had to restrain the desire to urge the horse into a gallop and race across the stretch of land so he could feel the wind brush against his face. The power of the animal flying.

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

Over the past days, he had spent a great deal of time with the man he was coming to know as his father. Jason was very different from the stories Grandma, Grandpa and Aunt Beth told him. Quiet. Thoughtful. He never talked down to him. Always answered his questions honestly, which had earned Jason an ear full from Grandma when he had asked if he could see his guns.

That day in town when he drew his colt on his Uncle Lucky, man it had been fast. Faster than he could blink almost, like a blur. He had wanted to see if it was the gun that made Jason look so dangerous or if it was the man.

They spent the most time together with the horses, it was just easier to talk that way. Besides, he was learning alot too. Grandma was good with the horses, she was like a miracle with them most of the time and sometimes he just didn't believe he would ever develop the relationship with them that she had.

Then Jason had worked with him with Jilly, and he watched as Jason almost mirrored his Grandma. What was really amazing was the way he took the time to explain what he was doing. Grandma was a girl and sometimes she really didn't want to admit he was growing up. So it was nice when Jason worked with him.

When they both climbed on Kid for the first time for a ride and Jason had pulled him into his arms, Wyatt had to blink fast to clear away the tears that filled his eyes. He had seen his friends and their fathers doing this sometimes and for the first time ever he had the chance to do it with his.

His father.

"There were some rumors at school, some of the older kids were saying some stuff." He really didn't want to talk about it but he really wanted to know. "Stuff about how you're a gunslinger."

Jason pulled up on the reigns, signaling to Kid to halt and waited for him to do the same. For a long moment, he just stared at him, with cool blank eyes that made him want to squirm. "And you want to know if it's true right?"

"Well," of course he did. It wasn't just that he'd heard his father was a gunslinger. He'd heard his Jason Morgan was one of the most dangerous gunslingers alive. And he'd actually seen Jason pull his gun. "I mean-"

"Wyatt, I'm not going to lie to you." He began and Wyatt shut up because he knew whatever Jason was going to say would be important. "Some of the rumors out there about me are true. I am a hired gun. I have collected bounties on wanted criminals."

He paused and let his words fill the air. Then drew in a heavy breath, releasing it slowly. "I've killed men and I've been shot at and nothing about my life should ever be glamorized or prettied up. There are many things I regret about the choices I've made. None more so than never coming back here and discovering I had a son. You're the best thing I've ever done Wyatt. The best part of me and I don't want you to ever forget that, you hear?"

"Yeah," he sighed feeling the clench in his chest twist tight for a moment, then loosen just a bit. "I hear."


End file.
